For Better or Worse 7of 12 in series
by mccoylover
Summary: Picking up where I left off at with Allegations of Abuse. Jack plans a surprise for Brooke with consequences that surprise both of them.
1. Chapter 1

_"Yes, Jack. I'd be proud to become your wife tommorrow."_

By the time the blissful couple finished a series of phone calls to perspective guests, it was well after midnight. Given the amount of drink, passion, and travel the day before, it was no surprise to either of them that the over slept the next morning.

After they each finsihed a hurried cup of coffee, the couple made their way to city hall to handle the paperwork necessary for the day's festivities to take place. After that, they split up.

Malinowski went to the train station, arriving just in time to meet her niece and future step daughter for a morning of shopping for proper wedding attire. McCoy met his sister at the airport, along with his best friend from college, who had agreed to fly in from London to act as McCoy's best man.

The man with the thinning grey hair and tan tweed jacket offered his arm to the slender woman next to McCoy as the three moved from the baggage claim area to a waiting taxi.

"So you're really going to go for a third strike," Collins said after the cab pulled into the late morning traffic."I guess you never did rid yourself of that masochistic tendency of yours, Jack. First, you stay in the DA's office about two decades longer than any sane attorney. Then, you go and take a job that takes you out of the one place your more at home with than the bedroom, sorry Colleen."

The woman between the two friends waved a dismisive at Collins and cocked her head her towards her brother.

"I'm well aware of my brother's talents where the ladies are concerned," Colleen McConnell remarked, with a smirk reminisant of her brother's. "You forget, I was around when Jack perfecting his line on the likes of the Shelia Kowalski's of our neighborhood."

McCoy flushed slightly at the mention of his high school sweetheart, as his sister nugged him with an elbow while she and Collins chuckled.

"Come on Sis, I was hardly playing the field. You know I spent 3/4's of my time following Shelia around like a lost puppy until-,"McCoy said self consiously before he paused as he thought of the violent confrontation he'd had with his father over the bright, funny, beautiful girl who lived five doors down from the McCoy house.

The girl his father had only seen as Polock trash.

Collins and Colleen exchanged knowing glances while a sober silence fell over the threesome.

"One woman man were you," Collins said in an attempt to lighten the mood. "That was always the problem, McCoy. You always had a knack for attracting the fair sex. The problem is, instead of enjoying your good fortune, you keep going for this mongamy/happy ending nonsense."

"As opposed to what? I think I'm getting a little old for orgies and one night stands," McCoy said with a chuckle.

"True,"Collins conceded he cocked an eye at McCoy greying locks."I thought after that second disaster with what's her name?Denny? That you'd-"

"Her name is Denise," McCoy replied with a smirk," and Brooke is nothing like Denise."

"Colleen – you met both former Mrs. McCoy's – what's your take on the new model?"

Colleen shot her brother a knowing look, before turning to Collins, feigning indignation.

"All I know is her name is Brooke and she's an assistant district attorney that is old enough to actually _be_ Becky's mother. I only know that, because my niece had the good manners to call and tell me she was going to have a new stepmother. Which is amazing, since one the two people that taught her about manners, as yet to demonstrate that he himself has any."

"I wrote and told you what's been going on the last few months," McCoy said defensively. "I mentioned I was seeing someone-"

"Seeing isn't the same thing as marrying," Collins added, giving Colleen an amused wink. "So when do we get to meet this mystery bride? Certainly before you take another walk down a road that's been paved with good intentions twice before."

"Brooke is anxious to meet both of you as well, "McCoy said reassuringly. "Right now, she's looking for a dress for the ceremony with her niece and Becky. If Colleen has no objections, we're going to drop her off to meet Brooke and the girls for lunch. As for you Jeff, she'd like you to meet her at 3:00 in the hotel bar before the ceremony at five, while I spend some time with the girls and my sister."

Collins nodded approvingly as the taxi pulled in front of a green canopy reading: _Le Grande Café_.

"You do realize if she doesn't meet my approval you'll have to call the whole thing off," Collins countered as he moved to open the door.

"I have no doubt that by the time we're ready to walk down the aisle,both of you will be almost as anxious to see us walk down the aisle together as I am," McCoy said before kissing his sister goodbye.


	2. The Short Version of 20 Questions

Even if he hadn't the lone figure at the hotel bar, Malinowski would have known the man savoring a gin and tonic at the end of the bar was Jeff Collins. McCoy's directive to look for a 'blonde David Niven, in his fifties' made the the urbane man at the bar easy to identify.

His tweed jacket rested on the chair back. He looked relaxed and confident in an Oxford shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar and a pair of grey worsted slacks. When he abandon his gin and tonic to greet her his embrace was as warm and geniune as his smile.

Malinowski smiled first at the tequila sunrise sitting in front of the empty stool beside him, then back at Collins, and laid the armfill of bags with her, on the opposite stool.

"Looks like Jack's given you a thorough briefing."

"And you as well, I'm sure. Although I must admit, when it comes to the women I know from the Big Apple, their drink of choice is a usually a Cosmopolitan or a dirty martini."

"Do I get points for originality," she asked with a grin. "Going to college on the west coast broadened my tastes a bit. I'm still trying to sell Jack on the idea guacamole is a delicacy, not a substitute for wall paper paste."

Collins lifted his glass in a mock salute before touching his glass to hers.

"If it's not meat and potatoes, our resident Irishman can be a bit rigid in the food department," Collins admitted. "Chinese take out, not with standing. As for your accumulated points thus far; each woman Jack has introduced me to over the years has had her own sense of style and grace. I can see you are no exception. In fact Brooke, not only do you get 'originality' points, you get points for resourcefulness. After his last marriage, I never thought Jack would be calling me to stand up for him a second time. I'm sure from the little he's told you about Denise, you've been able to ascertain that like most institutions other than the justice system, Jack doesn't put much stock into the institution of marriage."

"A woman doesn't have to be resourceful to get Jack McCoy to the altar," she countered with a wink. "All she has to do is run just fast enough to give him the impression _he's_ the one doing the chasing."

Collins gave her an appraising stare before as thoughtful smile played on his lips.

"Seems you might have our Jack figured out, after all. Maybe this marriage has a better chance of standing the test of time than I thought."

Malinowski smiled back as she lifted her glass

"Here's to that, Jeff," she replied as their glasses met. "Being that we are short on time, I wonder if before you get too far into your round of twenty questions, if you can give me any sage advice on the subject of Jack McCoy. The only other person that I know, that's known Jack as long as you have is Paul Kopell. He and Jack haven't spoken to each other since Paul was disbarred."

"Jack's told you about that, has he? Well, I have to admit, _that_ was a real shocker,"Collins replied candidly. "We both knew Paul was ambitious, but knowing about a murder being planned and doing nothing to stop it? That still doesn't seem posible. That event was a major turning point for our friend, Jack. That's when his 'take no prisoner' approach to prosecuting really hit its stride. Finding out how little he really knew someone he had been so close to for so long, that really turned Jack into the skeptic he only pretended to be, before that."

Malinowski nodded. She remembered the weekend McCoy told her about his association with Paul Kopell.He stopped by her office the weekend she decided to clean out her overflowing file cabinet of closed case files. As she ran the last pile of out of date documents through her shredder, the pair were chatting about their weekend plans. When one of the files fell to the floor and McCoy reached for it.

His face paled as he stared down at one of the pages in his hand. Malinowski slipped the documents from his hand and nodded when she looked to see what had catch his attention..

_"Paul Kopell, now that's a name I haven't seen in quite awhile. You must have dealt with the __Demenici__ crime family's faithful lap dog too, being that his firm's home office was in Manhattan."__ she said sarcastically as she placed the items in the shedder._

_"Does cramming for finals together count?"_

She nodded at Collins as she set her drink on the bar.

"I had read that Jack had prosecuted Paul, but I had no idea they'd been friends, until a few months ago. Even with all the time that's passed since the trial, it's still obvious how much it hurt Jack to see that man for what he is."

"Ah, but Paul wasn't always like that," Collins countered. "When the three of us were chasing undergrads, Paul was as full of idealism and boyish charm as Jack and I were. It wasn't until he met Anna that he started looking for the fastest and easiest way to make a name and a dollar. Even after they married, Jack wrote me many times about Paul doing pro bono work for the occasional defendant that was actually innocent. Usually these were defendants Jack discreetly sent his way. It's hard to believe the way the three of us have ended up."

"I don't understand. Jack tells me you've done quite well in London working for the American consulate."

Collins nodded as he removed his wallet from his pocket.

"If you two had given me more notice about this wedding of yours, I would have brought bags full of mementos from our law school days to amuse you and mortify the new DA," he said leaned closer and offered her a small photo. "As it was, this caught my eye as I was dashing out the door last night."

Malinowski took the tattered snapshot from him and smiled. The three young men featured were surrounded by anti war protesters in various signs and styles of dress, near the Washington Monument. All three were in jeans and tee shirts that bore the Jefferson quote: _'…it is not only the right of citizens to protest and unjust government, but their responsibility…'_

"That was taken at the end of the first year of law school," Collins explained."Just after Kent State. We all thought we'd open a practice as civil rights attorneys together, then."

Malinowski's laughter made the smile on Collins face deepen.

"I went to law school during the Iran Contra affair and _my_ roommates and I thought _we'd_ be civil rights attorneys. I think it's every first year law students dream….then the student loan payments start and everything changes. Besides, I thought the plan was for Jack to be a judge?"

"Yeah, well McCoy never did get up in the morning to satisfy the demands others made on him...especially when it was his father making the demands."

"Did you meet Jack's family?"

"Briefly, at graduation. You want to know about Jack's old man,don't you" he asked as she nodded. "Well, I'll say this, it's a wonder McCoy doesn't give himself a stroke when he looks in the mirror to shave in the morning now. The resemblance was always there, but now that the grey's come in full force, he's a mirror image of his father."

"Only physically," Malinowski countered.

"Oh, very true," Collins said quickly. "The man I met that day was nothing like the man I'd spent three years rooming with. Jack's father was what you probably would expect: Controlling, hardened, very quick to anger. The moment Jack joined them, McCoy Senior had that degree in his hand as if he was the one that earned it. Spent the next half hour telling anyone that would listen how he would see his son appointed to the Supreme Court before he died. I thought Jack was going to have to punch him to make the man be still or sink into the ground himself, due the embarrassment. It was a hideous display."

"And his mother? Deirdre"

"Not much to tell,' he said solemnly "She hardly said two words. The only one I really had a chance to spend time with was Colleen. She stayed a few days afterwards to help Jack pack for his move out of the dorm. We did a little causal dating back then. When she came to London with a tour group for her high school students, many years later, we spent some time together, as well. Lovely woman. Learned her lessons well from her mother, as far as what _not_ to look for in a man. She doesn't take a thing off of anymore...including Jack," he said glancing at his watch.

Malinowski smiled innocently at him, before starting to gather her bags.

"Oh I say, this is hardly fair,' he said with mock indignation. "The idea was for me to determine whether you were worthy of my oldest and dearest friend, not to spend the whole time giving you more information about his past. You know what this means don't you? No wedding until you answer at least one question for me, as truthfully as you know how."

Malinowski set the packages back down and hgave him an earnest nod.

"I'm an open book, Jeff. What's your question?"

"Do you love him, Brooke," he asked in a tone free of his earlier frivolity."I mean_ really_ love him? Enough to put up with not only the long hours and the arrogant self righteousness that he uses as a front when he's about to push the envelope on his own ethics, when a case really gets under his skin; but do you love him enough to try to save him from himself when that damned McCoy guilt creeps into his soul and makes him doubt himself? If you do, being married to Jack still won't bring you a life of luxury and wealth, but you'll never feel more loved and he will be devoted to you always."


	3. Fate Can Play Dirty

The two young women took turns hugging McCoy; followed by alternately helping each other place the necklaces they each had just been given around the others neck. While Malinowski and Collins had their get acquainted drink, McCoy completed the last task that had been delgated to him; the task of giving the maid of honor and the bridesmaid their gifts from the couple.

While his sister took on the job of conferring with the hotel staff regarding the room McCoy had reserved for the wedding and dinner for the wedding party following the ceremony, the groom had taken his daughter and future niece to his suite to give them the matching silver necklaces he and Malinowski had purchased several weeks before, while looking for an engagement ring.

Each silver heart bore the inscription: _Always in our hearts._ Each one appropriately signed _Love Dad & Brooke_ or _Love Aunt Brooke & Uncle Jack._

As the pair went to the bathroom to see how the necklaces looked with the matching green lace tea dresses they wore, Malinowski greeted McCoy with a kiss.

"Looks like you survived your interrogation none the worse for wear," he said with a grin. "It's almost four, shouldn't you be getting dressed for the ceremony?"

"As soon as my dress arrives from the seamstress," she said glancing around the room."It's not at the front desk or in the girl's room. I was hoping they delivered it here by mistake," she said as she straightened his bow tie."It looks like you're set. Now, you're sure you want put those cabinets doors off one more weekend, just so we can do this?"

McCoy chuckled at the reference to the kitchen cabinet doors that had been laying untouched against the living area wall in the loft for almost a month.

"You know 'The Don' isn't starting his 'buy one get one free' deal on the stain until next weekend,"he deadpanned. "Can't finish 'em until then. Might as well marry you and not have the weekend be a total bust."

"Oh, so _that's_ how it is. You and 'The Don'. I swear, you should be in the ad's for _Don's Hardware,_" she said with a laugh. "You must be the man's best customer. By the way, it was a stroke of genius on your part to book the adjoining room for the girls."

"I figured we wanted to keep the girls close,"he said as he gave her a sly smile."But not _too_ close."

After giving the bathroom door a quick glance, Malinowski lowered her voice, as she added suggestively."Have I ever told you what I want to do to you, every time I see you in a tux?"

McCoy gave her a lecherous grin as he took her in his arms and started to reply, only to be abruptly interrupted.

"Brooke, it's bad luck for my Dad to see you before the ceremony. Dad, close your eyes," Becky McCoy commanded as she opened the door to the adjoining suite.

"Yeah Aunt Brooke, you're going to jinx your own wedding if you don't get out of here."

"Girls, I'm not in the dress yet so we're safe," Malinowski said as she playfully squeezed each of their hands."You both look beautiful! All you need are the bouquets, otherwise you girls look perfect."

"Aunt Colleen's going to call us when they arrive,"Becky replied."We're ready, but Brooke the cermony is in less than an hour. Why aren't you in your dress?"

"The dress still isn't here,"Malinowski said anxiously."Can one of you call over to _De Mills_ while I do my makeup and hair? The phone number's on the business card on the dresser."

"I'll take care of it," Lindsay Malinowski replied, moving towards the dresser."But you need to get out of here, Aunt Brooke. You can play kissy face with Jack for the rest of your life, _after_ you marry him."

"Lindsay," Malinowski sputtered as the other three chuckled. "Maybe you better just concern yourself with that phone call, missy."

"Whatever," the fiery redhead replied as she started to dial.

"Brooke do you need help with anything?"

"Actually I do, Becky," she said as she quickly kissed McCoy's cheek."Better start sayin' your prayers, handsome. Your single days are about to come to an end ... and without a bachelor party...and _this time_ it will be for good."

"Damn, I knew I'd forgotten something when I planned this thing," McCoy countered, as he slapped his forehead in mock dispair while the pair entered the other suite.

While Becky secured the door behind them, Malinowski began rifling through the bags she had left on one of the two double beds.

"How can I help?"

"You can slip this into the pocket of your Dad's tux, before the ceremony," Malinowski said as she handed Becky the box wrapped in gold foil; an envelope taped to the top. "I was almost late meeting Jeff because it took the engraver so long to finish these. I know your Dad doesn't wear cufflinks often, but he already has your Great Grandfathers pocket watch, so I thought maybe cufflinks..."

"Brooke, he'll treasure anything you give him," she said taking the box."I know he has something for you as well, but you have to wait until after the reception, for your gift."

Malinowski's eyes shined with curiosity, as she moved closer to her future step daughter.

"Aw, come on Becky. No hints?"

Becky shook her head as she stepped towards the door.

"You know Becky, I can be a_ good_ stepmother... like Julia Roberts in _StepMom_... or a_ bad_ stepmother like Cinderella's," she warned.

Becky glanced back over her shoulder with a smirk.

"If I wanted Julia Roberts for a stepmom, I would have been nicer to Claire and Denise,"she said lightly, while opening the door. "Besides, your evil self works just fine for us. For me and Dad, both."

Before she could respond Becky gave her a wink and swiftly closed the adjoining door.

Malinowski sighed as she reached for the purse beside the bags on the bed. There was one last thing she had to do before she ran out of time before the wedding. One last person she had to call, even though she knew the conversation would be less than pleasant.

"Couldn't get the time off huh," she said when she heard her brothers voice on the other end of the phone. "Even if you couldn't come up with a better story, I do appreciate you sending Lindsay up here for the ceremony."

While she and her brother went back and forth about the wisdom of her marrying Jack McCoy, she heard a knock at the door. Assuming the dress she had purchased for the ceremony had arrived, she opened the door.

"Rebecca McCoy," one of the two burly men asked, holding a garment bag that bore the name of the store from which the dress had been purchased.

"…Andy, it's high time you accept the fact Sam and I were finished long ago," she said as she remembered that Becky had insisted on paying for her wedding dress.

The younger woman had made the gesture being that there had been no time for her to find another gift for her soon to be stepmother. Malinowski nodded at the man and reached for the bag. "If you can't accept that, then maybe you and I are finished, as well. Brother or no brother you're out of line, Andy. If you..."

The cell phone fell out of her hand as the man with the garment bag suddenly grabbed her arms and pushed her back into the room, while the other man pressed a handkerchief over her mouth and nose. Her scream stifled, she tried to bite the hand over her mouth, causing the man to pull slightly back, but not enough for her to be able to made her crys for help audible.

When she realized the cloth was damp with chloroform, Malinowski tried to hold her breath; thrusting her elbows out and a foot back to hit a shin, but it was too late. She could already feel her legs growing heavy. Her eyes had started to blur.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

McCoy finished dressing for the cermony alone; the girls having been summoned by Colleen MacBride once the flowers had arrived. As he slipped the tuxedo jacket on, McCoy noticed the extra weigh in the right pocket.

He smiled as he pulled the box and card from the pocket while he sat on the edge of the bed. Opening the envelope, he moved back and propped his head up with a pillow that still held the scent of his fiancées perfume.

_If I'd been single when Adam introduced us all those years ago, you'd of had me at 'hello'. Fate is a funny thing isn't it, Jack? All those years I thought I was a widow, I was going through the motions. I never thought I'd find love again. _

_Until you._

_You taught me how to love again._

_Always Yours,_

_Brooke_

McCoy thought about the look that had passed between them when they were introduced, so many years before. The fact they both remembered that meeting in spite of the fact they were both committed to other people, said volumes.

He opened the box and read the elegantly engraved words; _Forever__ yours_ on the face of the shiny gold circles.

He was in the process of exchanging the cufflink that had come with the rented tux, for his gift when he heard the muffled ringing of his cell phone.

McCoy grabbed his old stand by off the chair beside the bed. As he pulled the cell phone out of the all weather jacket, he looked at the caller ID and did a double take.

"Andy? This is a pleasant surprise," he began, only to be cut off by the frantic fireman.

Brooke's brother demanded that McCoy find his sister and child, as he hurriedly relied his phone conversation from just minutes before. As McCoy listened, his gut instrictively tightened. In two quick strides, he had the door to the suite next door open. His heart sank as his eyes fell on the cell phone and garment bag that laid by the door.


	4. An Act of Simple Revenge

"Stupid son of a bitch," Malinowski heard a deep voice boom from a few feet away say. "You took the wrong one!"

"She _said_ she was Rebecca McCoy," another voice whined,"You gave us nothing but a name and location. How would we-"

The voice was aburptly replaced by the sharp sound of a palm meeting the speakers face.

"Idiot! Take one look at this bitch and even you should see she's too old to be his daughter," he spat. "You know what Rostov wanted us to do with her? His whores are teenagers …a few in their twenties…we can't put this one to work."

A chill went through her as Malinowski realized the meaning behind the exchange.She risked opening her eyes. Her lids fluttered open slowly, only long enough for her to see the man who had held the garment bag, holding his jaw as another man glared at him from across what appeared to be a deserted parking garage.

She found herself bound and gagged in a van maybe thirty feet from them. The back doors open; giving her a clear view of the exchange.

"What about a ransom," the bag man suggested."She was in the girl's room. She _must_ know McCoy."

Malinowski lowered her eyelids, as the pair glanced towards her.

"This wasn't about money," the other man snapped. "McCoy sent Rostov back to Moscow to be sentenced on human trafficking charges. Karl will never see the light of day again thanks to that arrogant pig. For Karl, it's not about money. It's about revenge."

"But Rostov isn't here," the other man persisted."Listen, we have a woman that is valuable to this McCoy. Why not give Rostov his revenge and get a few dollars for ourselves? Where's the harm in that?"

_Rostov. _

It was a name Malinowski vaguely remembered hearing. She thought about the scrapes of information she had gleaned from the conversation. After a few moments, she it came to her. The deportation of Russian Karl Rostov had been big news, just before McCoy brought charges against another Russian... Nicolas Brezin... for murdering Rostov's brother.

It was one of McCoy's last cases before becoming DA.

She remembered how outraged Rotov's attorney Stan Webber was. Months after his client had been deported, he came to her office to negotiate a plea bargain with her in Suffolk County, on another case. Malinowski had dealt with Webber numerous times in her years with the DA's office. While she found many of his clients unsavory at best, she also found Webber himself, to be ethically sound.

As they negotiated, Malinowski had made an off the cuff remark referring to a New York county case that had similar facts and offered Webber the same plea that defendant had gotten there. Webber went off.

_"Damn it Brooke, I thought this was Suffolk County. If I wanted the same plea that Nazi gave in Manhattan, I'd go back to McCoyville,"_ Webber snapped.

_"What the hell is that supposed to mean,"_ Malinowski snapped back_."If fifteen to twenty is good enough for Jack McCoy, why the hell would I accept less time for the same crime in my county? We may not be 'McCoyville' on this side of the bridge, but were not 'Polliannaville' either. What exactly is the problem, Stan?"_

While Webber relied the story of McCoy's trade of one defendat for another; a deal that reminded Malinowski of a bad B movie depicting a trade of spies at old Checkpoint Charlie, she had felt a sense of both horror and awe.

Horror that something so against everything the founders held dear could occur in her own country. Awe that Jack McCoy had the balls to try such a daring plan, not only get a crack at a murderer, but seek justice for the dozens of Russian women Rostov had kidnapped and whored out in New York.

"…just get the ring and hurry up," the bag man was saying, as the sound of footsteps grew closer. "We'll send it to McCoy before we cross the border, after we dump the van."

Malinowski fought to clear the remaining effects of the drug, at the same time she tried to roll herself into a position of strength while appearing to still be a sleep. Although the prospect of being a kidnap victim in the hands of the Russian mob terrified her, it also made her choices even clearer.

They been planning to kidnap and pimp out Jack McCoy's child, for simple revenge. If she wanted to live, Malinowski knew she had to take any chance she had to either escape or slow her captors down.

She felt one of the men lean against her. He held her left hand out and she could feel her ring slide off. With as much strength as she could muster, she brought her bound legs up and under her, swiftly pushing into his gut and upward. As the heels of her shoes dig into his flesh, she heard him swear.

She opened her eyes in time to see him fall to the cement floor. As she began to inch forward, the other man reached inside and slapped her with enough force to knock her backwards.

Both men were yelling in Russian; the standing man helped the other to his feet. The stricken man ripped the shoes from her feet and hurled them across the parking lot before reaching into his pocket. Malinowski could see him pouring something on a white cloth, before the pair crawled towards her.

She tried to push out again, but the injured man held her down, as the other leaned over her.

After nearly slapping her into unconsciousness, he grabbed her face and Malinowski met the lifeless eyes above her.

"Understand this: If you try anything like that again, we will send you back to McCoy in pieces. Some small," he said as a cool hand ran over her bare ring finger.

"Some larger," he continued as his hand moved to and roughly squeezed her left breast, before reaching back for the handkerchief laced with chloroform.


	5. Reality Sinks In

McCoy his sister and the two young women each a final hug before they followed the two uniformed officers out the door of his suite. McCoy turned to Collins, who had just flipped his cell phone closed, when Lindsay Malinowski ran back to him.

"Jack, please don't make me go," she said between sobs."I'll do whatever you want, if you let me stay until the police find Aunt Brooke."

"Honey, you know I can't," McCoy replied as calmly as he could."You know your father wants you on the first flight to Manhattan and he's right. Until we know what's happening, all of you need to be as far away from this as possible. You've given your statement to the detectives, if you think of something else your father knows can call them. There's nothing else you can do right now."

"But-"

"You know your Aunt would want me to keep you safe,' he said giving her another hug."As soon as we know anything, I'll call your father. Now, go on with Becky and Colleen. An officer will take you to your Father as soon as the plane lands."

As Lindsay started to protest once more McCoy's daughter stepped in, putting an arm around the teenager, her other arm around her father.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered. "I know they'll find her soon. Stop blaming yourself, it's not your fault."

"You know Becky's right," Collins said after the door closed. "It's not your fault, Jack. She's an assistant district attorney. You told me yourself Brooke and her ex husband ticked off both the Mexican and Russian mobs pretty good a few years ago. I'm sure she's had cases since then that..."

"She stopped carrying that gun because she knew how I felt about guns."

"Why would she carry a gun now? You told me yourself, she initally started carrying a gun out of fear of reliatation after she thought her husband was murdered. That threat is gone, isn't it? Besides Jack, even if she'd been armed, you have no way of knowing she'd of had a chance to draw her weapon, "Collins countered as he poured his friend a drink."Neither of you had anyway of anticipating this. Besides if you don't get a hold of yourself, you can't help find her."

"What did your friends at Interpol say," McCoy asked setting the glass on the table.

"They're in contact with Brooke's office. Her boss has given them the names of every defendant she's been in contact with in the last decade. They're trying to locate her ex-husband to see if he can be of any help, as well. Right now, they have the locals reviewing the security tapes in hotel and at the bridal shop Becky said they spent the morning in."

"Did you ask about Rostov?"

Collins nodded as he undid the bow tie around his neck.

"He's still sitting in his cell in Siberia. Interpol has asked the Russians for a copy of a list of his visitors, but for now, he seems secure enough."

McCoy shook his head in frustration. On one hand, he was more than relieved to know Rostov was where he was supposed to be. Although McCoy could easily think of a few dozen felons within a hundred miles of Manhattan who'd like to see him dead or at least suffering, Karl Rostov stood out in his mind as the person he'd most recently angered the most.

Even McCoy knew he'd crossed more than an ethical line, as he watched Andrei Karpovich's men from the KGB hustle Rostov into a waiting car. Although he never lost sleep knowing the man who had kidnapped and prostituted dozens of women from his own homeland was wasting away in a Russian prison, McCoy did lose sleep knowing the kind of vengeance a man like Rostov was capable of.

Although he was sure Malinowski knew about the case, he'd never talked to her about it. The only people he'd spoken to about it were Arthur Branch and his own daughter: Branch because he knew his conduct during the case could reflect on the then DA. His daughter, because Branch insisted he'd be a fool not to warn the woman closest to him to be on the lookout for anyone or anything unusual.

It was the excuse he used to set up the fateful dinner that brought his daughter back into his life.

"Jack, what is it about Rostov that bothers you," Collins started.

Both men looked towards the muffled shouting coming from the other side of the door. McCoy gave Collins a confused glare as he opened the door to find Sam Prescott on the other side, arguing with two uniformed officers.

"Jack, thank God," Prescott said, after McCoy reassured the officers."Andy called me. Brooke's missing? What the hell happened here and what are the Canadians doing about it? Her last big case was that Crawford mess and we both know Roberta Crawford doesn't the connections or the means to pull something like this off. "

McCoy ushered Prescott into the suite and made the introductions. Collins handed him a drink as the three men sat on the sofa.

"The Canadians are working with Interpol to find her," Collins interjected. "Jack tells me you and Brooke had bad blood with more than one mafia family. Do you think any of them could be ..."

Prescott shook his head impatiently.

"Jeff, I spent five years in witness protection because of Vladimir Valenski's threats. The man is dead now. His organization has gone through a major overhaul. The new hiearchy of the family would probably throw me a party for puttin' Vladmir behind bars. As for the Mexicans, they had their fun with Jack a few months ago. None of those guys would kidnap an American ADA on foreign soil."

"Then who the hell has her," McCoy said louder than he intended.

He rubbed his weary eyes, the new cufflinks sparkle catching his attention. _Forever yours__…._

"Jack they're going to find her," Collins said as he squeezed his friends shoulder. "It shouldn't be much longer before the locals have something from the surveillance tapes. That'll give them a place to start."

"Mr. McCoy," one of the uniformed officers called as he opened the door. "Chef Inspector Laurent wants to see you downstairs."

After a heated but brief discussion, McCoy met the haggard looking Frenchman in the hotel manager's office. The manila envelope addressed to McCoy was covered with white residue from fingerprinting power.

"Monsieur McCoy this envelope arrived not more than an hour ago. Can you identify its contents for me, please?"

Mc Coy took the ring from Laurent's hand and stared down at it in horror.

"It's hers," he said as his voice broke."It's Brooke's engagement ring."

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

When she opened her eyes, Malinowski found herself lying on a bed in a cheap motel; her hands and feet still tied, . Although her mouth was still duct taped shut, her eyes were unobstructed.

The room had all the usual fixtures of a road side motel: Bed, dresser, two chairs, and a table. The only thing that was missing was a phone. She stared at the empty phone jack, until it occurred to her it was the phone cord that was binding her arms together.

She strained her body to move into a sitting positionand looked across the room at mirror hanging on the wall. Even in the dim light of the single bedside lamp, she could see her face was a mass of black and blue blotches. As she studied her face, the reality of her situation took her hit her. She could feel her eyes well up, as her eyes fell on the bedside clock. The bright red numbers indicated it was nearly midnight.

By midnight she was supposed to be in a romantic lover's hideaway starting her honeymoon in the arms of her new husband.

She knew McCoy would be frantic. He'd be beside himself with worry and….knowing Jack…guilt. If she lived through the nightmare she was in, she knew her first words to him would have to be 'it wasn't your fault'…

_If_ she lived through it…

She shook her head; trying to clear her mind and stop the tears she had no way of wiping from her face. She immediately regretted the sudden motion. The room spun, as a stabbing pain shot through her skull. The result of the lingering effects of the drug and battering her face had taken, hours before. She closed her eyes, feeling her stomach lurch as she sank back against the headboard.

_You don't have time for this_, she told herself impatiently. _You have to stay calm…think….think about escape…holding on until Jack can find you ….everything else can wait… think like victims that survived…think like a survivor, Brooke, not a victim…_

Suddenly she opened her eyes and brought the hands that were bound in front of her, to her head. Barely able to move her fingers, she caught hold of a few strands of hair and tugged. She knew wher ever they were, they probably wouldn't be there for long. It was a long shot but, she had to try. She had to try to leave some sort of trail in the hopes McCoy and the police would eventually find this room.

With a gag in her mouth, she could think of only two ways to leave a trail of her DNA for the police to follow.

As she let the hairs fall from her hand to the floor beside the bed, she heard the adjoining door open and immediately went limp, closing her eyes. She heard the voices of the two men from before, talking about dumping the delivery van and finding another car to use when they crossed the border.


	6. Let's Make a Deal

"Jack, Jeff will be back any minute,"Prescott began.

"One of you should have got me up," McCoy snapped as he reached for his all weather jacket. "Why the hell did you let me sleep when police called? I know you still love her,Sam. I know you never wanted her to marry me, but that doesn't give you the right to come up here and-"

"You're not going to help her acting like an ass," Prescott snapped back, equally frustrated.

The three men had been on the sofa when Chief Inspector Laurent called an hour earlier. McCoy's body had reluntantly given into fatigue; his head rested on the arm of the sofa. Collins and Prescott sat silently finishing the last of the scotch.

Prescott's mind had been on his own wedding day, when the phone jarred the two back to life. Collin reached the receiver before the first ring had finished. After a whispered exchange, Collins hung up the receiver and motioned for Prescott to join him in the bathroom.

_"They found the delivery van,"_Collins said as he closed the door."_Brooke wasn't in it. Laurent says they found it in a parking garage not far from here, as well as a pair of women's shoes, about fifty feet from the van_."

_"Then let's stop talkin' and get Jack."_

Collins shook his head.

_"Jack's not going to be of any help with this,"_ Collins said candidly._ "The ring, the note, now this, he's just going to be one step closer to falling apart himself. I think I should go find out what Laurent's men find and you should keep an eye on Jack until I return."_

_"No way in hell-"_

_"Sam, you both have too much invested here. She was your wife. You have to be as distraught as Jack is,"_ Collins continued_."I mean, you jump on a plane as soon as you here she's ..."_

_"My feelin's for my ex wife are not the issue here_," Prescott retorted stubbornly.

_"They are not. But your ability to be objective and helpful with the police are,"_ Collins said bluntly_."You and Jack will be in the way and that will slow the police down in doing their job. It will slow them down in being able to bring Brooke back."_

Prescott opened his mouth to continue the debate. His words failed to come out of his mouth when the waterfall shower caught his eye. His jaw dropped and he could hear his own sharp intake of air.

He immediately knew why McCoy had chosen to take Malinowski there. Why the Irishman had booked this particular suite.

Prescott remembered his own plans to for fill his former wife's fantasy. He had planned to take her to Hawaii after the Valenski trial was over. Prescott had planned on returning the travel agents call to finalize the details for the trip once court was over, the day he'd been shot. The day this life took a fateful, unexpected detour, into the world of witness protection...

"Jack, I put her in jeopardy myself," Prescott said quietly, as he put himself between the door and McCoy. "This isn't your fault. You have to step back and let the police do their job if you want them to bring her back to us."

The two men's eyes met in silent understanding.

"You kept her safe when you left by leaving her, Sam," McCoy said bluntly."We both know what that note was about…as well the ring being sent to me…this is personal. This is about revenge for what I did in the Rostov case."

Prescott took a deep breath as he scratched his ear. When McCoy had returned to the room, he had informed Collins and Prescott that the engagement ring was indeed Malinowski's and a note had accompanied it.

The note had contained three words. Collins had immediately recognized it as Russian and had called a friend at the Russian consulate for a quick translation. The note read 'what for what', the Russian equivalent for quid pro quo.

It was a message Prescott himself had received during the Valenski trial. Both he and McCoy understood the unspoken message immediately.

_"God help her, it is Rostov,"_ McCoy whispered as the color drained from his face.

"You and both know safety is an illusion Jack," Prescott said sadly."My leaving made her less of a target for one gangster. As an ADA, Brooke knew it would be just a matter of time before she was in someone else's sites. It's not like the woman is prosecuting E felonies. Even if it is this Rostov, it could have just as easily been someone she herself had put in prison."

McCoy knew Prescott was trying to be civil, to go easy on him; God only knew why. He remembered Malinowski making an offhanded remark about her ex husband's tell tale sign of dishonesty; recognizing it as soon as the man put a hand to his ear.

Too weary and anxious to call the other man on his attempt at deception, McCoy started to turned towards the window, when the door opened.

"Both of you grab a bag," Collins snapped as he reached for one of the suitcases by the door."The next flight to Manhattan leaves in ninety minutes and we need to be on it."

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

As the car raced across the border back into the United States, Malinowski fought to keep her nausea in check. Tied up and gagged in the truck, she remembered McCoy telling her about the untimely death of his young assistant, Alexandra Borgia. She recalled how horrified she'd been to hear how the ADA had met her death by gagging on her own vomit. Feeling the effects of too much chloroform and not eating for more than twelve hours, she swore she wasn't going to allow herself to meet the same fate.

At the motel she had been allowed to use the bathroom briefly. It had taken little time to realize an escape attempt would be futile. The bathroom window was too small for even a toddler to get out of. The window also looked out on a deserted alley far from anyone who might remotely have a chance of hearing her scream.

When she looked around the tiny room for a weapon of any kind, she could see her captors had anticipated her thoughts. The towel rack had been removed, as had any glassware that may have been left in the room. On the bathroom counter were only a wash cloth and a tiny bar of soap. Even the mouthwash and toothpaste had been removed.

She took the opportunity to use the toilet and gingerly washed her face, after quickly massaging her wrists and ankles. She gulped down handfulls of tap water. Briefly, she entertained the idea of using the soap to leave a message on the plate glass mirror, but remembering the earlier warning, thought better of it.

Instead, she took the miniature bar and knelt under the countertop. She knew if the police were able to find the room, the CSU would scour the place – it would be unlikely they would overlook the bottom of a counter top. Quickly, she wrote 'Rostov' and the date and time.

Hearing footsteps approaching, she tossed the soap in the sink and wiped her hands on the damp cloth. It took a few seconds for the chair holding the door closed to be removed. The man she had recognized from Becky's hotel room door, roughly reached for her shoulders to lead her back to the bed.

His partner stood by the door holding a gun that was pointed at her.

"Hold out your arms," the gunman commanded as the other man picked up the discarded telephone cord.

Wordlessly, Malinowski did as she was told.

"Now, your legs," the gunman said a few minutes later, nodding approvingly."You seem to learn quickly. This is good. Less trouble for us, less trouble for you."

The more she heard the men speak, the more certain she was they had learned their English somewhere in the east. The intonation, the mixture of accents, reminded her of speech patterns she'd heard from first generation immigrants before.

Submissively, she nodded while she watched the other man bind her legs. She focused her eyes on the cut on one of the man's fingers, as she raised her hands.

"You may speak," the gunman said with amusement.

Choosing her words carefully, Malinowski looked back at the gun man. Of the two he'd had shown himself to be the most violent, so far. Based on the conversations she had overheard, he also appeared to be the one in charge, the one with the most intelligence and control.

"Without telling me any unhealthy details, will you tell me why I'm here?"

Malinowski waited as the two men exchanged satisfied looks while they spoke in Russian. She hoped appearing clueless would confirm to the men that she had indeed been unconscious throughout most of the journey. If she could convince them she had no idea what their plans had been, she hoped her feigned ignorance would buy her time.

"You seem to have some knowledge of how these … situations… work," he said at last, "why is that?"

_Score one_, she thought smugly. Although he still didn't seem to know who she was, it was just a matter of time before that changed. She and McCoy had just applied for a marriage license. That was public record any reporter working the crime beat would check once s/he started connecting the dots, once word of a kidnapping the day an American DA who was to be married got out.

Now, she had a chance to make them think _they_ had tricked _her _into giving something away, something she knew the Canadian version of _The Ledger_ would do before morning.

"You know I'm an assistant district attorney," she said matter of factly."I've had cases like this. Am I here because of one of those cases? If so, is there any chance we can make some sort of deal, before things go any further?"


	7. Law: Manhattan Style

The moment the three men got off the plane they were escorted through customs and taken to a waiting unmarked police car. McCoy was more than a little surprised to find Detectives Ed Green and Mike Logan in the front seat.

After reassuring McCoy the homicide detectives presence was not due to any tragic new developments, Green helped make the necessary introductions.

As Logan pulled the car into the early morning traffic, Green turned around to face his audience. By the time the car stopped in front of Danielle Melnick's apartment building, Green had updated the group. Although he wanted to continue on to McCoy's office with the others, Prescott knew the time was right to take care of unfinished business at home.

The kitchen clock in the form of a ceramic coffee pot read 7:49 when Prescott's key turned the lock. Melnick glanced at the clock above her stove and set her coffee cup on the counter before meeting him half way across her living room.

Prescott set his suitcase and overnight bag down beside him. The pair stood gazing questioningly at one another for a solid minute before he risked moving to hold her. Melnick buried her face in his chest and returned his embrace.

"It hit the news here this morning," she said at last as she took his hand and lead him to the kitchen counter and handed him the morning paper."I haven't seen _The Ledger_ yet, but _The Times _is reporting a Suffolk County DA was abducted in Niagara minutes before her wedding. They aren't using Brooke's name yet, but it's just a matter of time before they do."

Prescott nodded as sat on the stool and took the paper from her. Melnick tightened the belt of her robe before pouring and handing him a fresh cup of coffee.

"Have they found any trace of her, Sam?"

"Your friends Ed Green and Mike Logan met us at the airport," he said as he took a long swallow of the dark liquid.

"Green? Detective Green from the 2 7 ? They think this is a hom-"

"No, "Prescott said sharply, as he held up a hand. "Don't even say it. No, when Logan caught the case he was without a partner. I don't know exactly why. Anyway, he asked if he could borrow Green from the 2 7, given their past working relationship. Green and his commanding officer were more than willing, seein' how they both have a long standing professional relationship with Jack."

"Have they come up with anything?"

"Accordin' to Green, the Canadians and Interpol have been very cooperative. Seems someone saw two men, in what we now know was a stolen sedan, leave a hotel near the Canadian boarder a little after midnight. The pair caught this man's attention because they seemed to be unloading a laundry cart into the trunk of their car. The witness reported it to the night desk clerk, who had been listenin' to an all night news station…anyway, the local PD called Interpol. They found strands of hair that matched the sample of Mal's DNA that Jack gave them. They..."

Melnick looked up from her coffee when Prescott stopped short. She frowned, immediately understanding his reason for hesitating.

"I swear, I won't even think about taking on this case Sam. No matter who the defendants are; no matter what the outcome is." "

"Honey, I was just tryin' to avoid puttin' you in an awkward position," Prescott said frankly. "There's no getting' around the fact you're the best defense attorney in the city. When they find the bastards that did this, chances are, you're gonna get a phone call."

"I wouldn't touch this one with a ten foot pole. Even if we weren't involved, Jack and I go too far back for me to even think about taking this case."

Prescott knew he'd done more than ruffle a few feathers when he abandoned Melnick in the middle of a speech she was giving for the Women Trial Lawyers association, to rush to Canada the moment he received Andrew Malinowski's frantic phone call. He knew his lover well enough to know she was making a valiant attempt to take the high road and not provoking the confrontation they both knew would be inevitable.

Prescott lifted her chin, as he gently caressed her cheek.

"I want you to know if Andy hadn't begged me to go to be his eyes and ears in Canada, I would have..."

"Sam, don't lie to yourself," she countered, busying herself with the empty coffee cups. "We both know you would have been on the first flight out the second you heard Brooke was missing. It wouldn't have mattered whether Brooke's brother called or not. One day we will have to deal with that fact, but not this day."

Prescott took the cup from her and held her hand.

"I treated you badly and I hurt you," he said quietly, "for that, I am truly sorry. But Danielle, that doesn't mean what we have isn't..."

"You still haven't told me why the police think the kidnappers are in New York."

Prescott briefly lowered his head, well aware of Melnick's diversionary tactic. Although he very much wanted to clear the air, he knew he was close to losing his internal battle was exhaustion.

"The Canadians found one of the men that was on the surveillance tape from the hotel Jack and Brooke were staying at. They had to make a deal not to send him back to Russia on pending charges, in exchange for him telling them what he knew about the kidnappin', as well for confirming who the intended target really was."


	8. Daughters Don't Always Forgive so Easily

"Dad, I don't understand," Rebecca McCoy announced as her father embraced her. "Why did you send NYPD officers to bring me back from Portland, when I already had a protective detail assigned-"

"I need you here, Becky," McCoy began, as he exchanged knowing glances with the two detectives that stood by the closed door.

The exchange did not go unnoticed by the District Attorney's daughter.

Becky searched her father's weary face. Although McCoy had exchanged the tux he'd woren since the ordeal began, for a pair of jeans and a sweater that had hung on the rack near his desk, anyone who knew McCoy could see the man was a mess.

His hair was disheveled, the bags under his eyes only served to highlight the lines on his face that seemed have become deeper of the course of the previous day.

Jumping to a logical conclusion, Becky McCoy caught Green's eye.

"Did you find Brooke? Oh God, is she..."

"No," Green interjected. "No, Miss McCoy, we're still looking. But, we do have information leading us to believe her captors are bringing her back to Manhattan."

"Back to Manhattan," the young woman repeated in confusion.

Green paused, giving McCoy as questioning look and responding only after he received McCoy's resigned nod.

"We also know Ms. Malinowski wasn't their intended target."

McCoy's daughter listened while her father led her to the leather sofa by the window. Her initial reaction of horror slowly changed to one of anger, as Ed Green told her she had been the intended victim for Rostov's plan to extract revenge from Jack McCoy.

Her dark eyes registered with immediate recognition, when she heard the name of the man she knew her father had used in a deadly trade, in order to gain access to another Russian he wanted to prosecute.

As Green discussed taking her to a safe house until Malinowski and her captors were found, her jaw tightened. Abruptly, she left the sofa and opened the door leading to the outer office.

"Excuse us detectives," she said not quite managing to keep her tone level. "We need a moment."

"I'm sorry honey…"

"No you're not," she spat back angrily, "Brooke's the one who's sorry. But to hell with anyone or anything that gets in the way of your self righteous 'crusade for justice'."

"You know better than that. Becky, know you're upset. That doesn't –"

"What will it be _Jack, _the third or the fourth time since I moved out of the house that I have to abandon my job, my boyfriend, basically my life, because you crossed the line between prosecuting and vigilantism? Between you and the woman who gave birth to me, my life is one big protective order!"

Lack of sleep and an excess of adrenaline kept McCoy from reacting to his daughter's use of his first name...a reference she had only made once before... right before the beginning of their years of silence.

"I am not going to apologize for getting a sadistic felon off the streets," he shot back with fevor. "As for your mother. She does what she thinks is right. We both do..."

"Right? According to who? Certainlhy not according to the law. My God, yo uhad the man kidnapped by the Russian government to get your own way! Of course he wants pay back," she said moving towards the door. " You know, Brooke would have blindly followed you to hell and look where it's gotten her! Well not me, Jack. Not anymore!"

His daughter's reference to his fiancée hit him as hard as if Becky had backhanded him. His face was filled with pain; from the sting of his daughter's hurtful words, as well ashis own guilt. Before he could respond, Becky grabbed her coat and purse from one of the chairs in front of his desk and opened the door.

"I'm not doing this again, Jack. This time I mean it. I'm changing my name and moving so far from you and this city that I can get on with what's left of my life, in peace. Once this is over, _we're_ over and this time, don't even think about trying to find me!"

Logan and Green watched as father went after daughter, who stormed towards the elevator.

"For God's sake Rebecca," McCoy hissed as he grabbed her arm," save the theatrics until after …. Listen to me young lady. Hate me, but don't punish your mother for what I've set in motion. It damn near killed her when you did this the first time."

Rebecca turned away, pulling her arm free, as the elevators door opened. Ignoring the curious group that gazed at the pair as they left the elevator,she moved forward, only to have McCoy block her way..

"We both know my mother is a tought as nails," Becky shot back, as she glared at her father. "Besides if you wanted to spare Liz so much, maybe you should have thought about_ her_ before you put everyone around you in jeopardy, one more time."

"God damn it Rebecca, she's your mother and I'm your father and that's a fact you're goin gto have ot live with, like it or not," he bellowed as he took her by the shoulders. "I won't demand you treat us with respect, because we both know what a farce _that_ would be, but I will tell you you're not going anywhere without either Detective Logan or Detective Green. Do whatever you want when this is over, but until…until they find her.. .until I know whether Brooke..."

The young woman started to reply with another acidic comment, but relented when she saw a single tear begin a trail down her father's face.

"Dad," she said in almost a whisper. "I'm..."

"When they bring her home, you're free to do whatever you like," a strangled voice strained to respond. "Right now, I have to know you are safe... even if it costs me your love."

"We don't have time for this Ed," Logan whispered as he nudged his partner. "Listen, if you don't mind babysitting McCoy's kid until she set up at the safe house, I'd like to try to reach the lead detective in Canada. If we're lucky, his people have sweated out an address from their suspect."

Green nodded, his eyes still on McCoy and this daughter.

"Go ahead and take off, man. No problem here. I want to talk to McCoy about setting up a meeting with Nicolas Brezin when he's done hashing it out with his daughter."

Logan's eyes widened in surprise, as he turned to face Green.

"The ex-KGB guy McCoy sent up for killing Rostov's brother? Why do you think that guy would want to tell you or McCoy squat?"

"He's a former cop too, Mike. He knows McCoy was just doing his job. Besides, Jack got one of the two guys that helped kidnap Brezin's daughter sent back to Moscow; one of the two guys that forced her into prostitution. That's got to mean something to Brezin."

Logan shrugged his shoulders and started towards the elevator. Although he didn't hold much hope out for Green's plan, Logan knew every minute the pair debated, was a minute lost in trying to find Malinowski.


	9. Father's

The bright blue eyes were as alert and certain, as they were when Nicolas Brezin agreed to serve a ten year sentence for second degree murder in the death of Peter Rostov. While Jack McCoy found the vigilante justice Brezin had handed out appalling, he found himself admiring the man's unapologetic willingness to accept his punishment. as a consequence for his actions.

McCoy had shared Logan's skepticism when Green approached him about meeting with Brezin. Eventually, Green wore him down. More out of a sense of desperation than anything else, McCoy agreed to make the ninety minute drive to the medium security facility Brezin was being held at.

As McCoy and Green took their seats across from the man clad in a beige prison uniform, McCoy noted that, except for the dark circles under his eyes, the man looked none the worse for wear after being on prison for little more over a year.

Panic soon replaced recognition on the Russians face, as he looked from one man to the other.

"Mr. McCoy, Detective Green. You wouldn't be here if something hadn't happened... if…Rostov. He's escaped? Nadia? My family..."

"No," McCoy said quickly. "No, Karl Rostov is still sitting in a cell in Siberia. He can't get near your family."

Brezin's relief was obvious, as his face relaxed and held his face in his hands. After regaining his composer, he looked back up at McCoy, his face showing genuine concern.

"You have daughters, Mr. McCoy?"

"One."

Brezin nodded gravely.

"I was hoping to see you both again, one day. I never got the chance to thank either of you for getting justice for my Nadia," Brezin said softly. "Detective Green you and your partner... Detective Cassidy... you saved my child. And you, Mr. McCoy. That day on the street; that day the embassy traded me for Rostov, I knew my Nadia would have justice for what that man… As I said, I hoped one day to thank you. I never wanted it to be under these circumstances. How long has Rostov had your daughter?"

McCoy shook his head, as he reached into the pocket of his jeans.

"They took my fiancée almost eighteen hours ago."

Brezin studied the snapshot of McCoy and Malinowski taken at a Bar Association gala a few months after the couple had started seeing each other. With a sigh, he handed the photo back to McCoy, his eyes meeting his desperate gaze.

"The blessing is, she's too old for him to try to put her out as a whore. The curse is, he'll squeeze you to release as many of his associates as he can, before he has her killed. I am sorry to be so blunt, but after my own experiences with such people, I think it's best you know from the start what you are dealing with."

Green put a hand on McCoy's shoulder, seeing a flicker of misery fleetingly mare the otherwise stoic face.

"Anything you can tell us about his operation in the states...in New York spefically... could help us find Ms. Malinowski."

"Yes, he would have her kept as near to Mr. McCoy as he thinks is safe," Brezin said frankly. "Both Peter and Karl took pleasure in not only degrading women, but flaunting the power they had over the men who cared about the women they took. Have his people contacted you yet?"

"They sent her engagement ring and this note," Green said as he handed Brezin a manila envelope.

"Yes… next you'll get a tape…a tape that will be very difficult for you to watch. But watch it you must," he said wearily. "But when you get it, keep an eye out for familiar things…landmarks you can see from any windows in the structure. Street signs, the structure of the surrounding buildings."

"Mr. Brezin, how is Rostov calling the shots," Green interjected. "He's in a prison thousands of miles from the U.S. Who would he use and how is he contacting them?"

"Rostov was …how you say? He was a middle man. His operations were part of a bigger group, part of the Valenski crime family's organization. Mr. McCoy what is it? "

McCoy's face paled as he heard the name of the crime boss Malinowski's former husband jailed before going into witness protection. On his way from the airport, he had heard the morning news report the kidnapping of a Suffolk County assistant district attorney in Niagara Falls the previous afternoon. He knew the press would not only have a name by noon, but a back story as well. A back story that would include not only their engagement, but Malinowski's marriage to the federal prosecutor.

"I have to get to a phone," he said as he signaled for the guard."I have to call Ira Meyerson at _The Ledger_."

"Mr. McCoy," Brezin said urgently.

McCoy turned from the doorway.

"After you get the tape, the first demand will come. You'll need to offer them something in good faith. You went to my embassy when you needed help to prosecute me. You must have impressed Andrei Karpovich significantly or he never would have agreed to trust you with any kind of trade. Go to him again. Tell him what you've told me. He may be able to help buy you time."

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Malinowski stared at the food her captors had left on the floor beside her earlier, while she slept off the effects of the drug. As hungry as she was after almost a day without more than a few handfuls of water, she knew there were risks to eating the now cold burger and fries that sat next to the unlabeled cup of cola. After critically inspecting the inside of the burger, caution gave way to hunger and she reluctantly bit into the burger.

As she ate, Malinowski studied the stark room she found herself in. She had been left with her hands and legs free. She assumed this was to be their final destination, at least for some time. With her mouth aching from the the removal of the duct tape, she knew screaming would only serve to either amuse or infuriate her captors.

The room contained nothing but a mattress and blanket. Once she finished her meager meal, she rubbed her wrists and ankles, trying to increase the circulation in her limbs that ached from being bound for hours in the truck of a car.

Carefully, she stood and gingerly made her way to the main door. Finding herself locked in, she tried the door at the back of the room.

Inside she found a bathroom that contained a small basin, toilet and shower. Once again, the metal fixtures had been removed. The pipes soddered into place. Inside the shower stall, she found a large pump bottle of soap and small window that appeared to be the rooms only source of ventilation.

Straining her arms and legs, she peered out the window. Confirming that she was indeed in a basement, much like the ones found in many turn of the century brownstones in the city. The window itself was secured from the outside, making any attempt to open it, impossible.

After assuring herself the window would be of no help in either escaping or finding help, she stepped out of the stall and glanced down at her watch. Still set on New York time, she found her thoughts wandering to the planner on her desk in Inslip.

_It's almost one…_she thought. _Jake should be meeting with Stan Webber any second…thank God those two are tennis buddies…maybe Jake will get further than I did and get Stan to plead out Gomez…yeah Gomez, what a worthless sack he is…maybe, by the time I get back to the office…_

Suddenly she felt tears flowing down her cheeks. She started to wipe the tears away, forgetting momentarily the tender state of her face. Recoiling from the soreness of her cheeks, she caught her reflection in the small mirror that was cemented to the wall above the basin

. Seeing her bruised cheeks and the soiled clothing she'd had on for more than twenty four hours brought the reality of her situation crashing down on her.

Malinowski had known she was in deep by the reaction of her captors hours before, when she had attempted to find away to make a deal with them to let her go.

_"You know I'm an assistant district attorney,"_ she said matter of factly_."I've had cases like this. Am I here because of one of those cases? If so, is there any chance we can make some sort of deal, before things go any further?"_

The two men eyed her curiously before exchanging knowing nods.

_"Then you work for John McCoy?"_

Hearing her fiancée referred to by the name he shunned, caused Malinowski momentary confusion that her captors mistook for lack of familiarity.

_"Your friend, the woman whose room you were in; her father. You know Rebecca McCoy's father, no?"_

_"I know Becky's father,"_ she said carefully.

The man beside her unexpectedly held out her left hand.

_"Ivan, the ring,"_ the man beside her said excitedly. _"You are a prosecutor and you are McCoy's woman?"_

Malinowski nodded, feeling as if she was digging her own grave; yet knowing it would be futile and potentially more deadly to lie.

_"I am McCoy's woman."_

The Russians exchanged a rapid stream of words before the gunman, the other man referred to as Ivan, returned to Malinowski's suggestion.

_"To deal both parties need something the other wants. You have nothing that we want, nothing we haven't been offered before,"_ he said snidely, as his eyes roamed over her body_."That leaves you at a serious disadvantage."_

_"I have your freedom to offer,"_ she said with as much confidence as she could muster, as she prayed the trembling that she could feel through out her body, had gone unnoticed_."No one has to know I saw your faces. Just leave me and go. I'll tell the police you wore masks, that you disguised your voices. I'll convince them I have no way of indentifying you. Just let me go now, before it's too late."_

_"Too late? Too late for whom,"_ Ivan said as he reached into his pocket and handed his partner a roll of duct tape._ "If you are a district attorney, you know the reason we didn't feel the need for disguises. No deal."_

Before she could reply, her mouth was once again sealed. While his partner prepared the chloroform, Ivan returned his gun to its holster and moved towards the bed.

As she began to feel light headed, she found the man close enough to smell the faints scent of cigars on his breath.

_"Your man's name is John, no? Ivan is Russian for John,"_ he said with a smile that held no humor_."Perhaps that means you should get used to the idea of being my woman, very soon."_


	10. Do What you Have to Do

By the time McCoy had reached the man who had helped set up his first meeting with the Russian embassy's resident counsel, Andrei Karpovich, it was late afternoon and US undersecretary Charles Sheehan had seen the reports of Malinowski's kidnapping.

After a series of phone calls between the state department and the Russian embassy McCoy received an invitation, through Sheenan, to meet him at five thirty in the lounge of the Russian Tea Room.

By the time he arrived, the Russian's order for caviar and a bottle of vodka with two shot glasses had arrived. As McCoy took a seat across from Karpovich, the other man handed him a plate and a glass.

"When I received your request from Mr. Sheenan, I knew it was too much to hope for, that it was to set up another reenactment of the old Checkpoint Charlie exchanges. I was truly sorry to hear of your recent troubles, Mr. McCoy. Here please, take and eat. You'll need to look after yourself until you're Miss Malinowski is able to look after you herself again."

McCoy smiled for the first time since Malinowski's disappearance. He was both surprised and touched by the other mans subtle effort to portray the return of the woman he loved as something realistic to hope for…something to be assumed would occur.

"If she were here she'd tell you it's 'Ms.'," he said, politely spreading the black fish eggs onto the warm toast.

Karpovich smiled as well.

"Of course. American women, so independent," he said with a nod. "Forgive me. Perhaps when she returns, the three of us could come back here to celebrate?"

"When she returns," McCoy said softly, before downing the shot of cold vodka.

The clear liquid coated his throat with a cool sensation that quickly turned warm. Although he would have preferred a shot of scotch, he stayed with the vodka, fearing that if he were to order his signature drink he wouldn't stop with oly one shot.

"What can I do to help you?"

As the Russian listened to McCoy's story, he removed a pad and paper from the inside of his suit jacket and took down significant details, as McCoy spoke.

"Brezin was right to send you to me," he said finally. "When you receive this tape he talked about, call me. I can work with you and your police to set up some sort of fake exchange, if need be, to buy your people time to find Ms. Malinowski."

"I appreciate you doing whatever you can," McCoy said sincerely.

Sensing by the discomfort in the other man's face, that something had gone unsaid, McCoy waited.

"I do have a question."Karpovich said at last. "You said your fiancée was taken from your daughter's room. I assume your daughter is, what? Maybe twenty four or twenty five?"

"Becky is twenty seven, but she looks much younger. Why?"

"I won't waste your time by... how you say? 'Sugar coating' the truth? You know what Rostov is. It is unusual for him to engineer a plan like this …to target a woman he can't easily use in the sex trade. I suspect Ms. Malinowski wasn't his intended target."

McCoy nodded.

"We know they were after my daughter. She's in protective custody now."

"With people _you know_ you can trust," Karpovoch asked. He smiled with relief when McCoy nodded. "Good. Knowing your child is safe will make it easier for you to..."

"Excuse me. Mr. McCoy," the waiter said. "There is a Detective Logan in the reservation area asking for you."

Moments later the three men were being escorted to an empty banquet room. McCoy could tell by the look on the younger man's face, the news wasn't good. Once inside, the waiter made some quick adjustments to the audio visual equipment in the room and left the three men alone.

"Jack, they want you to drop the charges on a Russian Mafia guy named Sheffen," Logan began. "They expect to see something in _The Ledger_ tomorrow morning or they say … they say Brooke will suffer the consequences."

"I know who Sheffen is, "McCoy said as he watched Logan remove a video tape from the manila envelope in his hand. "He was one of the Valenski's crime family's 'accountant's'. Bett's down in Larceny is supposed to have him up for an arraignment tomorrow morning. I can have him drop the charges and refile when this is over."

Karpovich nodded knowingly.

"Yes, this is like Rostov, to start with something small and work his way up to who or what he really wants. To have you do something you'll be uncomfortable with, but something you know won't result in some sort of tragedy. He knows letting a money launderer go free will inch you closer to letting a murderer go free, when the time comes."

"I've spoken to the press. I've had the word put out that the DA's office needs to be kept informed of what they plan to run before it goes out to the public. I can get _The Ledger_ to play along and publicize Sheffen's release in whatever light you think best," McCoy said turning to Karpovich.

"Good, "the other man said as he extended his hand. "I suspect you and the detective would be more comfortable viewing this tape alone. Call my private line when you need me again, day or night."

McCoy took the business card from his hand and firmly shook the other man's hand before Karpovich departed.

"Listen, I know I'm probably the last guy you want to watch this tape with..."

"Is Green still with my daughter," McCoy asked sharply, as he turned towards Logan and the bright blue screen.

"They just arrived at the safe house. Ed should be back in the city in the morning."

"Then you know I don't have time to wait," he said brusquely. "You've seen it already?"

Logan nodded.

"When the package came for you, the uniformed we have stationed at your office took it to Van Buren," he explained. "She had it screened and fingerprinted before she and I viewed it... just she and I. The good news is, Brooke looks like she's in pretty good shape. The the more severe injuries are to her face. Not pretty, but not ther worst either of us have seen. But, I have to warn you..."

"It's all right detective," McCoy said tas he reached for the remote."This isn't the first hostage tape I've viewed."

Logan bit his tongue and watched as the screen came to life. McCoy took a sharp breath, when he saw the battered face of his fiancée, who leaned against a porcelain basin in what appeared to be a residential bathroom.

Looking at Malinowski, his first glimpse of Alex Borgia battered face flashed through his mind. The black and blue blotches and swollen jaw and nose did appear superficial, at least compared with the injuries both men had seen on the bodies of other kidnap victims.

"John," she said looking into the camera."I need you to do whatever you have to do, to deal with the demands of my captors. They want you to release Alexi Sheffen by Thursday afternoon, tomorrow, or I will suffer the consequences…"

McCoy's senses took in everything about her, as he kept his eyes glued to the set. Her use of his given name did not go unnoticed by either man.

She was still wearing the jeans and cotton button down shirt she'd worn to shop for her wedding dress in. Although her face was badly bruised, the only other clue to her discomfort seemed to be the large dark circles under her eyes.

He searched her face for a hint as to how she was really doing. The bright blue eyes looked out at him with her usual steadiness in an effort, he was sure, to reassure him.

"…do what you have to do," she said again. "By now, I'm sure you know who is calling the shots. They will be looking for confirmation in the Friday morning edition of _The Ledger_ that you have acted in good faith So far I have been treated well, with the exception of consequences I brought on myself, when I foolishly tried to escape. It's not a mistake I'll make again. If you do not cooperate, they're will be graver consequences. You've been though this sort of thing enough times to know, they mean what they say. You told me not too long ago, to trust our love. I am doing that now. I trust you to do what you have to, no matter what the consequences, John."

McCoy looked at Logan in confusion when the tape suddenly went dark.

"There's more," Logan said taking the remote and hitting 'pause'. "There's a short delay after they switch speakers. It gets harder to watch..."

"She's telling us one of them is named John,"McCoy interjected, ignoring Logan's attempted warning. "She'd never call me that unless…"

"Yeah, Van Buren figured that. It's not much, but she's pulling all of 'John's' that have any connection to Kostov. Anything else you noticed?"

McCoy sighed as he shook his head. '_Do_ _what you have to do'…..How can she think...How can she even ask me to...She's giving me permission to let her die..._

"She's trying to tell me ... she's saying not to give them what they want," he said at last."She's letting me know…She expects me to let to follow procedure...as if this were a typical kidnapping."

Logan knew McCoy was right. He had picked up on it the first time he watched the tape. While the exchange didn't appear scripted, he knew she had been told what they wanted said. In his dealings with Malinowski, Logan could remember remarks she had made to him that reflected her pride in Jack McCoy. Her unwavering faith in a man she viewed as ethical beyond reproach. A belief he had found amusing at the time. Now it seemed tragic.

"Jack, remember she's probably disoriented …in shock..."

"The room…the reflection in the mirror over her left shoulder," McCoy said trying to regain his composer as he rewound the tape and paused it at the spot he was referring to."Look past the archway. Is that a living room it's adjoined to? A house or apartment…"

Logan nodded. He and Van Buren had given the tape the same kind of scrutiny before he left the 2 7. Logan doubted McCoy would find something the two experienced officers had overlooked, but he knew pointing that out to McCoy would be futile. Battling with McCoy over any thing would just waste more time.

"Brezin said they'd keep her close to me," McCoy continued with forced detachment."The archway...the type of door ... maybe a brownstone or construction from the same period? The only window seems to be in the shower area. The light sources seem to be track lights in both rooms. Maybe a converted basement or part of one but where, I could begin to say. Did Van Buren have any of this magnified..."

"The bathroom. Beacause of the angle of the recording, not much of the adjoining room showed up. Van Buren has part of the squad checking rentals in and around your office and apartment. Jack, you know Van Buren isn't going to rest until we find her."

McCoy nodded impatiently. Every instinct in him told him she was dead the moment she opened the door to his daughter's room. He had seen too much, knew too much, to be able to hold on to the ray of hope Logan offered. He had to let the prosecutor in him take over or risk giving into his personal sense of despair and guilt.

"The loft. There are a lot of renovated brownstones in the neighborhood..."

"Covered," Logan said without thinking."I gave Van Buren the address."

Logan swallowed hard as McCoy's expression changed from puzzlement over Logan even knowing about the loft, to comprehension. The memory of the night Logan had brought Malinowski home after they had spent evening together crossed McCoy's mind, with obvious distain.

"Look, Jack," Logan akwardly began."I know this probably isn't the best time to..."

"You're right," McCoy snapped, as he pressed the play button. "It isn't. "

Logan silently watched as McCoy dispassionately viewed the remainder of the tape. Enough though he knew what was coming, Logan cringed as the heavy set man in grey coverall and a plastic Spiderman mask came on the screen.

McCoy noted the faintest Eastern European accent, as the man spoke about the need for McCoy to leave the police out of any further dealings.

"This is what you Americans call a 'freebie'. We know the police are involved. We would be suspicious if they weren't. If you want to see your woman alive and well again, law enforcement will stay away, from now on. We have people in your office and various law enforcement agencies that will know if you defy us. To ensure you understand how serious we are, we will provide you an example of what will happen repeatedly, should you try to trick us."


	11. You've Got A Friend

Ed Green unceremoniously opened the safe house door open, inadvertantly causing the knob to bang with unnecessary force, against the wall. Rebecca McCoy gave Green a startled look that he ignored. As the two uniformed officers checked the premises for anything a miss, Green gestured curtly to the well worn sofa.

"Have a seat. Once the officers are finished, I'm sure you'll want to freshen up after the long drive."

"Long drive," Rebecca replied with equal abruptness, "I'm surprised I didn't need my passport. We must be half way to Mexico by now. But hey, just par for the course. Being the daughter of a self righteous prick at can't even..."

"Girl, do you _ever_ give it up," Green shot back. "Damn. It's bad enough I had to listen to this mess almost nonstop from Manhattan and passed three county lines... I ain't listenin' to it now. I'm officially off duty and I'm done listenin' to you bitch about what hell it is to have Jack McCoy as a father."

"You obviously have no idea..."

"No lady," Green interjected. "_You're_ the one who obviously has no idea. I was the one that found the girls who were kidnapped by Rostov; the man that had Brooke Malinowski kidnapped. You have no idea the public service your father did getting that animal sent back to Russia. Not just for his victims, but for society period."

"Yeah, tell that to Brooke," Rebecca countered defiantly."That is if we ever see her again. If my father hadn't played cowboy and broken every rule in the book….if he had just done his job and tried this man the way he was supposed to..."

Green shook his head in disbelief. He could understand the young woman's concern for Malinowski. He could even understand her frustration at having her life put on hold. But her inability to see the greater good achieved by her father's decision to pull strings and have Rostov traded for Nicolas Brezin confounded him.

"Wait," he said sharply, as he moved to toward the front door."Just put your mouth in park and wait a minute. I'll be back."

Rebecca McCoy stared at the door as it slammed closed. She didn't care what Ed Green thought. This had happen too many times before, too many times for the same basic reason: Jack McCoy's desire to put winning above all else.

She'd seen it when he had dealt with the Russian mafia and a woman from the DA's office was murdered. Her father all but shut down organized crime in the city, by less than legal means, until a the New York state supreme court dared to shut the operation down.

While McCoy continued to work the case, he had his daughter sent to a safe house for nearly three months.

Then came the Barnes appeal and Barnes's notorious hit list. Again, McCoy toughed it out and stayed in the city, working as if nothing had happened. Only grudgingly, did he accept a detail and a room that changed nightly, in various Manhattan hotels. The most meager of precautions and only used because Anita Van Buren had threatened to stake out McCoy's home and office herself, if he didn't listen to reason.

While he father played hero, Rebecca found herself out of contact with her job, her friends, and the man in her life, as she was shuffled from safe house to safe house. By the time Barnes senior was history, so were her job and relationship.

The sound of the file that had been in Green's hand, smacking against the press board coffee table made Rebecca jump.

"Detective, I know you mean well," she began pensively," but no matter what you have there in that file, there's no way you can justify..."

"You ever seen crime scene photos, Miss McCoy," Green said brusquely, as he opened the file.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Jack McCoy had thought of all the crime scene photos he'd viewed in his more than twenty years in the DA's office. He thought of the ransom notes and terrorists videos he read and viewed…of all the serial killers and rapists handy work he'd presented as evidence, while he viewed the remaining portion of the video with Mike Logan, a few hours earlier.

As he finished the last of the scotch, he hit the rewind button for the VCR player in the loft he shared with his fiancée. After viewing the tape with Logan, McCoy remained on automatic pilot. He spent the next several hours working with various agencies and the media to ensure all the arrangements were made to appear to be satisfying Malinowski kidnappers that their demands were being met. In spite of Mike Logan's best efforts, McCoy had insisted on taking a copy of Malinowski's video with him, on the pretense that he might spot something new if he watched the tape again... alone and without interruptions.

Her words had cut into his heart. The images of her being violated by the burly man in the spider man mask, cut into his soul.

As he hit the play button the screen sprang to life. He steeled himself as his fiancée was ordered to strip, reminding himself Brooke had to endure, what he only had to watch.

He watched her expressionless face carefully, as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. As hard as she tried to hide it, he could see the dread in her eyes, before her shaking hands finally forced her to look from the eye of the camera downward.

Her progress being too slow for her captors, the burly Russian abruptly returned to the screen and tore the blouse off of her.

McCoy could see the blood drain from her face, as the man drew a knife and informed her she could either finish the job quickly or he could finish it for her. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she bit down hard enough on her lower lip for McCoy to see a thin line of blood begin to flow downward, soon after. She unbuckled her belt and began to remove her jeans.

Closing her eyes, Malinowski reached back to unhook her bra. McCoy's mind flashed back to the morning of their ill fated attempt at matrimony.

He remembered watching her dress that morning. Knowing time would be of the essence, she had chosen the lacy white bra and matching panties he had packed for her.

_"Besides, Jack,"_ she had said as she rejoined him on the bed, clad only in her bra and panties,_ "if I wear white, you'll at least have the illusion of a virgin bride."_

McCoy chuckled softly as he pulled her to him.

_"In that case, maybe we need a trial run before this evening. It's been a while since I deflowered anyone."_

"Oh, God ... help me!"

The alarmingly sorrowful cry of his fiancée turned his stomach, as his thoughts returned to the image on the screen. The image of her naked body being touched roughly, intimately, as her captors laughed and gave their vulgar critique of Malinowski's attributes.

McCoy could feel the tears he had held back over the course of the day spill from his eyes and down his cheeks, as 'Spider Man' proclaimed what McCoy's 'dirty little whore' needed, was to be washed. As she began to back away, the masked man grabbed her and carried a now screaming Malinowski towards the shower.

"Jack? Jack open the door…"

It wasn't until he felt the presence of her warm, steady hand on his shoulder, that's McCoy realized he was no longer alone.

Lt. Anita Van Buren wordlessly picked up the remote from beside the distraught district attorney and the room immediately became silent and dark.

"Anita? How did you get in here," he asked as McCoy fumbled to switch on the light on the end table bedside him.

"I flashed your Super my badge and told him I needed to see you on police business. He'd seen the news reports on your fiancée and brought me up. When you didn't answer the door, he used his pass key to let me in," she replied as she moved to pick up the ejected tape from the player."I told Mike this wasn't a good idea."

"I didn't give Logan a lot of choice," McCoy said as he impatiently wiped his face. "Did you hear something else from the kidnappers? Has someone..."

Van Buren quickly shook her head, as she slipped the tape into her bag and the empty scotch bottle off the table.

"I wish I had good news for you, Jack," she said as she moved to the kitchen and scanned the doorless cabinets until she found what she was looking for."This isn't an official visit. I came by because we've worked together too long for me not to consider you a friend. Where I come, from friends look out for friends."

McCoy watched as Van Buren started a pot of coffee. The last thing he wanted was company. After spending the day holding himself in check, McCoy knew between the emotions, fatigue and liquor, he wasn't anywhere close to being able to make polite conversation or reassuring noises. If it had been anyone else... Cutter, Rubirosa, even his treasured former assistant Jamie Ross...that had dared to intrude on his solitude he would have unceremoniously turned them away without a second thought.

As Van Buren opened the refrigerator, McCoy admitted to himself the comfort it brought him to have her take time away from her family to check on him. To be counted among her friends was something, even under the worst of circumstances, McCoy valued highly.

When Van Buren closed the refrigerator door, she held a casserole dish containing the remains of a tamale pie Malinowski had made the day before their trip. As she moved to the microwave, she held her other hand up to silence the beginnings of McCoy's protest.

"You have to stay strong for her, Jack. You can't help Brooke living on scotch."

"I can't help Brooke, no matter what I'm living on," he said softly.

"I know you don't want to hear it right now, but this isn't your fault."

"Anita, we both know if I had gone by the book on the Rostov case, none of this would be happening," he said bluntly.

"What we both know is, counselor," she said with equally candor, the microwave timer beeped," if you hadn't made that switch the Rostov's that we didn't catch would have laughed in our faces and continued to do business as usual. When you sent that bastard back to Moscow for some real justice, it sent a message to other human traffickers. Damn it Jack, stop beating up on yourself, you did what you had to do."

McCoy's jaw dropped and Van Buren immediately knew why.

"Jack, I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't..."

McCoy shook his head, trying to clear it of Malinowski's words, as well as trying to silence Van Buren's unnecessary apology.

_Do what you have to do_…_how many times did she say it?...she thinks I'd let them…_

"Jack?"

McCoy sat down in front of Van Buren and stared down at the plate of steaming food in front of him.

"I could find justice for dozens of women I never met and I can't even _find_ the woman who means everything to me."

"She knows you'll do everything in you'll power to bring her home, Jack. We all will."

"Anita, you saw the tape. You heard what she said. She thinks..."

"She's trying to survive," Van Buren said with surprising force.

Although Van Buren had only met McCoy's fiancée a handful of times, she knew any woman that could break through Jack McCoy's armor had to be not only attractive and smart, but strong.

"Jack, she's not only your fiancée, she's an ADA," Van Buren said, taking his hands in hers. "She knows too much to stand there and recite the usual tear filled plea's a normal victim makes. She knows the drill and she's trying to protect herself in any way she can. Trying to put your mind at ease…trying not to give those animals the reaction she knows they expect…these are survival strategies. Don't use them to punish yourself. If you do, you're not only letting those bastards win, you're doing exactly what Brooke doesn't want you to do."

McCoy thought about her words, before slowly nodding his head. Van Buren gently reclaimed her hands and placed a fork in McCoy's grasp. As he began to move the food on his plate around, Van Buren gave him a questioning look.

"What," McCoy asked between mouthfuls.

"Is that something_ you_ concocted?"

McCoy chuckled softly before shaking his head.

"One of Brooke's attempts at converting me to California cuisine," McCoy explained. "She got hooked on Mexican food when during her college days there."

"It smells good," Van Buren said thoughtfully. "But it sure looks like a whole lot of mush and corn meal to me."

"I said the same thing the first time she made it for me," he admitted as he took a small bite full. "Actually, it's not bad. Here, give it a try."

Van Buren leaned in and slowly savored the sample McCoy carefully placed in her mouth. She smiled back at McCoy, as she thoughtfully swallowed the morsel.

"Hearty, but it needs something…something to give it a little bite. Tell you what, counselor. After we bring her home, you bring the future Mrs. McCoy down to Queens one weekend and I will personally show her how to add a little soul to her cooking."

McCoy smiled in spite of himself as he pondered Van Buren's offer.

"I have your word on that, lieutenant?"

"That I'll teach Miss Brooke a thing or two in the kitchen?"

McCoy looked into the dark eyes that radiated the natural beauty and wisdom he had grown accustomed to seeing for more than a decade.

"That you'll bring her home," he said softly. "That you'll bring her home, however you can."


	12. Online With Nadia

Mike Logan handed his blurry eyed partner one of the two steaming Styrofoam cups he held and pulled up a chair.

"Thanks, man," Green murmured as his fingers continued to move over the keyboard in Lt. Van Buren's office, his eyes glued to the computer screen.

"Any luck getting line on the Brezin girl?"

"Yeah, after I left the safe house I called the L T. Told her what I had in mind and she pulled some strings. She talked Brezin's warden, then Brezin, finally Karopovich over at the Russian consulate. If everything goes the way it's supposed to, I should have her online via webcam, any second now."

"Mind telling me where all this faith in the Russians is coming from, Ed?"

Green shrugged his shoulders and turned to face his partner. He knew it was a long shot when he found himself staring back at the lifeless eyes in the photograph he had almost thrown in Rebecca McCoy's face.

It had been months since the Brezin trial. Even longer since he and Nina Cassady had liberated a penthouse full of kidnapped sex slaves that had been under Karl Rostov's control. As a horrified Rebecca McCoy took the picture from him, Green remembered the confused young woman he and Nina Cassady found hiding out with one of Rotov's underlinks.

If had been as if she were waiting for he or Cassady to betray her, as well. To hold out the hope her captivity was over in order to gain her trust, only to snatch it away and become her new tormentors.

It wasn't until a member of the Russian consulate arrived at the 2 7 that the battered young woman allowed the slightest flicker of emotion to show on her young face. Green remembered her tearful thanks after the translator assured her she was indeed free and her willingness to do all that she could to help the police to bring down Rostov's operation.

"Listen Mike, I know it's a long shot, but Nadia Brezin has been through the same thing Malinowski's is going through right now," he explained as he returned his attention to the screen. "If anybody knows where to begin looking or who Rostov might be getting help from, it's going to be one of his victims."

"Detective Green," the heavily accented voice said cautiously.

"Nadia, yes," Green replied with obvious relief."Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. This is my new partner, Detective Logan, he will be listening as we talk, if you're okay with that?"

A look for fear clouded the young woman's face and she hesitated momentarily.

"You trust this man," Nadia asked.

After Green nodded, she followed suit, her face relaxing once more.

"I trust you. If you trust this man, I trust him too. The police here have told me why you've contacted me. Please tell Mr. McCoy how sorry I am for him and his family. My father believes him to be a fair man and I will do whatever I can to help. Just tell me what you want to know."

"I know we went through this after we found you," Green began," but I need you to think of the places Rostov and his people kept you, the people he used to help him, names, anything that you think will help us find Ms. Malinowski."

"But detective, you've arrested the few people I was able to indentify," she regretfully."As for places, once I arrived in New York the penthouse was the only place I remember, until I tried to escape..."

"What about before you came to New York," Logan chimed in."When you were in Russia. Your father told us Rostov kept his victims near their loved ones. When you were in Russia, where did they keep you?"

The young woman stared thoughtfully at Logan, as she turned his question over in her mind. Suddenly she began to nod confidently.

"Yes,"she said slowly,"detective you are right. For weeks I was only a block away from my home. They kept me in the basement of one of the abandoned stores near our house. I didn't realize it until just before they moved me. Between the beatings and the….I was very confused. It wasn't until I began looking at the pipes, that's when I realized ..."

"Looking at the pipes, what pipes," Green asked.

"The bathroom, the sink," she explained excitedly."You must understand. It had been weeks. They had drugged me and…as I said before... I was very confused. One morning I thought maybe, if I could get a water pipe loosened maybe I could flood the room. Maybe if there were people below me, the water would fall on them and someone would come and find me.

"When I tried to loosen the pipe, I noticed the flooring. How the flooring matched the bathrooms in the shops I used to go to. That's when I realized I might be close to home. After they took me to New York, Karl bragged about keeping a policeman's daughter right under his nose."

"Basements," Logan pressed. "No apartments or hotels? Only basements?"

"No," Nadia answered firmly. "No hotels. Not until after they put us to work. The Trainer came to us. Basements or sometimes abandoned buildings… places where they didn't have to worry about the noise."

"Good, good Nadia," Green said excitedly. "Keep going. You're doing great!"

"Places where you might have heavy machinery…boilers …to drown out the sounds?"

"Boilers," Nadia said with a frown."I don't know this word boilers."

"You know….heaters…or washers…loud sounds," Green offered.

"Ah, yes, yes."

"And this 'trainer'," Logan said as the knot in his stomach tightened. "Tell us about him."


	13. The Rest of the Tape

_Illusion…..the illusion of a bride….a virgin bride… bride….the wedding…oh God, they'll never have the cufflinks engraved in time…going to be late…late for an important date…late for the wedding…._

As she tossed restlessly during her drug induced sleep, Malinowski's mind filled with a fleeting array of images and voices. First, was in McCoy's tender embrace. They were laughing as his warm, loving hands began to unfasten the bra she had just put on for the third time in less than a half an hour. She was pushing his hand away, reminding him she had a dress to buy and two anxious young women to shop for …

Next, her eyes were focused on the same bra and matching panties that lay at her feet as she tried to push away another set of hands. Hands that were rough and demanding, unyielding and cold. Suddenly she was lifted off the ground and she could hear the sound of her own voice screaming futilely ….

_Stop it…._she mind shouted with equal furor. _Stop screaming, stop screaming, stop screaming and get a hold of __yourself !__... He can see you… They're taping this for Jack… Can't let him see me like this…Can't let him… Oh God, not again…_

As the steamy water of the shower hit her body, images of the shower on the sailboat she had rented for McCoy filled her mind. When the slick, soapy hands of her attacker roamed possessively over her body, she closed her eyes and tried to remember the touch of her lovers hands as they made love in that tiny space….

As her mind garbbed hold of those reassuring thoughts, she finally grew silent. If she could just hold on…just block it out…she might get through it. She might be able to …then the sound of a foreign voice, coarsely describing what he planned to do to her next, shattered the illusion.

_Just lay back and enjoy it…. Before I'm finished, you'll be begging for it…You'll be begging…Beg, bitch, beg…_

Images of her former brother in law…bits and pieces of another time…another unwanted pair of hands abruptly replaced her comforting thoughts.

_**No**__….not again… Dear God, __**not again!**_

Without warning, her hands swung out erratically. Her efforts were met smug laughter at first, soon afterwards with a brutal punch in the stomach, as her attacker threw her up against one of the shower walls. Pinning her down, 'Spider Man' forced her legs open as he pressed himself inside her.

Feeling her legs grow weak as her stomach began to lurch, Malinowski reflectively did what some of the more creative rape victims she'd interviewed had done. As she lost consciousness, she could hear her attacker swear before instinctively pulling away, as the bile rose up from her throat and her body began to purge itself.


	14. A Visitor From Suffolk County

"Jake, what are you doing in Manhattan," McCoy demanded as he followed the Suffolk County ADA into the kitchen. "I'd of thought Jackowicz would be short handed enough without you taking the day to babysit me."

"Jackowicz sent me," the younger man said as he set the assortment of bags he'd been carrying on the counter."Listen Jack, I know the last thing you need is one more person holding your hand and telling you not to blame yourself. So I won't waste my breath."

"I appreciate that," McCoy said with a sigh."Help yourself to coffee if you want it. It's not fresh, but it's hot."

"Look, Michael's been monitoring the situation from our office. He called your old boss, Senator Branch and managed to get an update on the investigation. Since the kidnappers want you to leave law enforcement out of it... something we all know you couldn't do even if you wanted to...Jackowicz wants you to let the police use him as a go between if ,you need one. Let me relay whatever you need to the lead detective. I have reason to be in touch with you and since these people didn't plan on having Brooke in the first place, they won't even know who I am. When you are contacted again, just call me on Brooke's cell. Chances are they are monitoring your phone, somehow. There's no way they could have her number, at least not yet."

McCoy nodded wearily as he watched the other man empty a bag of assorted food staples, placing the perishables in the refrigerator.

"Jake I appreciate the effort, but you really didn't have to… What am I supposed to do with this," McCoy asked as he picked up a skein multi-colored yarn that had fallen out of the bag in front of him.

"Nothing," Cohen said as he returned the yarn to the bag."It's for Brooke. She'll need it when she comes home."

"Jake, what the hell are you saying," McCoy sad impatiently."In the time I've spent with Brooke, I've never seen her knit..."

"She doesn't knit, she _crochets_," Cohen replied firmly."She crochets and she does a God awful job of it, too."

"I hardly think the first thing on her mind is going to be starting a craft project if she..."

"_When_, not_ if_ she makes it home," Cohen injected sharply,"But, you're right about one thing, Jack. When she comes home, crocheting won't be the first thing she does. The _first_ thing she'll do, is put up a front to try to reassure us. Next, she'll want to dive into a bottle of tequila. You're going to need to keep her busy to avoid that. That's where the yarn comes in."

McCoy stared at his fiancées best friend, as if the man had finally lost his mind. Cohen smiled confidently, as he busied himself with making a fresh pot of coffee. His smile widened as his eyes fell upon the empty casserole dish in the sink.

"I see someone successfully fed you last night," he said with approval."That is, unless you managed to put the tamale pie down the garbage disposal, like you tried to the first time Brooke made it for you."

"God, she _does_ tell you everything, doesn't she," McCoy said shaking his head in amazment.

"Up to and including your favorite sexual position," Cohen joked, as he gave the DA a sly wink.

"Listen, Jake. I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but..."

"I'm doing exactly what she'd expect me to do, Jack. And for the record, the only one that is blaming you is _you_, which is the last thing she'd want you to do."

"I thought you weren't going to do that," McCoy shot back as Cohen poured each of them a cup of the freshly brewed coffee.

"I didn't say you shouldn't blame yourself. It's a natural response. I said _she _wouldn't want it. So if you plan on doing it, you better figure a way to it keep to yourself when she sees you, unless you want her to start giving you hell the minute she walks through that door."

"When she walks through the door, she's welcome to give me as much hell as she likes."

Cohen nodded as he sipped his coffee.

"I almost went to your place," Cohen said frankly. "I wasn't sure…I didn't know if you could be here right now."

"Actually, I have someone staying at the apartment."

Cohen listened as McCoy explained that his best man had flown back to Manhattan with him and had opted to stay in McCoy's old apartment while he used his connections with Interpol to try to help with the investigation.

"That's good news," Cohen said encouragingly. "If you have an in with Interpol, may you can cut through some of the red tape and get the Russians to give you access to this Rostov."

McCoy nodded and continued to bring the younger man up to date. By the time he had finished speaking Cohen had begun making a second pot of coffee.

"You know she doesn't expect you to let felons go free just to try to buy her time," Cohen said gravely."The kidnappers will be thrilled with your bluff when they read the paper, but Brooke..."

"I did what I had to do, Jake," McCoy said gruffly. He winched, immediately realizing what he'd said. "It was the only way to keep her alive until we can find her. I'll make her understand later. Besides, when this is over, I intend to refile the charges against..."

"You can only refile if the guy stays in the country."

"If you expect me to apologize for doing what I would have done for any other kidnap victim in this situation, you might as well take your...yarn...and go," McCoy snapped.

"Don't misunderstand._ I_ get what you did. We all want her back, Jack, But the bottom line is, when they ask the next time, it won't be such an easy call for you to make. You need to remember what's important to you, is what is important to Brooke. She takes 'the search for the truth' and 'not giving into the demands of terrorists' or in this case the demands of criminals every bit as seriously as you do. If you can't …. if something goes wrong...she'll know the impossible situation you were in and understand."

"Will worry about the next demand when it comes," McCoy retorted.

Although he wasn't ready to admit it to Cohen or himself, McCoy knew the other man was right. He knew the next time the demand would be higher. Maybe even unattainable. He couldn't afford to care. Not yet. Until the choice was in front of him, he was determined to focus his thoughts on finding a way to bring Malinowski home.

"Jack..."

"Look, I need to shower and put on some fresh clothes. I have to meet with Collins in an hour and return a voice message from the lead detective."

"You haven't done that yet," Cohen said incredulously.

"Of course I did! I tried Green's cell phone just before you arrived. But it went to voice mail. He should have gotten my message by now."

"Jack, take your shower and will try Green again on my phone. With any luck he's got good news that I can pass on to my boss, as well."

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

By the time the pair had arrived at McCoy's apartment, Cohen had Detective Ed Green on his cell phone. Green finished bringing McCoy up to date on his conversation with Nadia Brezin, as the pair left the cab. As Cohen replaced his cell phone in the pocket of his suit jacket, McCoy opened the lobby door of the converted brownstone.

After grabbing his mail and exchanging pleasantries with the doorman, McCoy pressed the button to call for the elevator. As they waited for the elevator both men began to loosen the collars of their shirts in response to the warmth of the building.

"You either owned stock in Con Ed when you stayed here or went broke on the heating bill."

"Trust me Jake, the way things break down in a building like this, the heat wave won't last very long. I can assure you by the time anyone needs it, the boiler will either be broken or on its last leg again."

Before Cohen could reply, the elevators doors opened and McCoy found himself face to face with Jeff Collins.

"Jack, I thought I could make it to the corner store and the newsstand before you got here," Collins said apologetically. "I didn't expect to see you for a half an hour."

"I'm early. There's a diner around the corner. We can talk there," McCoy said before making the necessary introductions.

By the time the three men had been seated at the modest eatery, Collins had told the pair of Greens conversation with Nadia Brezin.

"When did Green contact you," Cohen asked after the waitress had taken their orders.

"Just before six this morning."

"Good," Cohen continued. "That's means the police have had time to start searching..."

"Jake, a house to house search would tip her captors off immediately," Collins interjected."Besides between the DA's office, Jack's apartment, and the loft there have to be hundreds of buildings that fall under Miss Brezin's criteria. According to Detective Green the Commanding Officers of both your Major Case and Homicide divisions are planning to contact the utility companies to help them with the search."

"We did that with another kidnapping a few months ago," McCoy said somberly."Six hours and over a hundred buildings later we found what was left of the victim."


	15. Because I Can

By the time she had managed to drag herself from the shower stall and back to the mattress in the adjoining room Malinowski felt like she'd just ran the New York City Marathon. Exhausted, as well as cold and aching with pain, she wrapped the thin blanket around her body.

Her attacker had been less than thrilled with the combination of excrement and vomit that had unexpectedly hurled towards him. The upside side: The desire to rape was instantly extingished in her attacker. The down side: Desire had been replaced by a rage that had only subsided when his partner intervened to pull the man off of his nearly unconscious victim.

After giving herself what she assumed were several minutes, to catch her breath and listen to the distant sound of what she assumed was a furnace, coming from the other side of the door, she opened her eyes.

She looked around the room to find the tripod and camera were gone. Her clothes, as well as her watch, had disappeared, also. Lifting an achy arm, she slowly ran her fingers through hair that was still damp. With no window in the main room, it was hard to tell if it was day or night. The only source of light...florescent light that hung overhead... continued to glow.

Judging by the feel of her hair and the hour on her watch the last time she'd looked at it... just before being carried into the shower... Malinowski figured it had to be early morning in Manhattan.

_Manhattan..._

She wondered if that was where McCoy was or if he had stayed in Canada to stay close to the investigation. Given all the road travel her captors had done early on, Malinowski wasn't sure whether she was in Canada or the States. It was that kind of confusion that had begun to frustrate her almost more than…

The sound of the heavy wooden door opening and quickly closing, made her jump.

This time the one called Ivan was alone. Alone and holding something that smelled vaguely familiar to his hostage.

"Good," he said as he bent down and handed her the warm paper bag. "You are awake. Take this."

Malinowski followed directions and carefully opened the bag. The smell of the soup immediately made her parched mouth begin to water. The warm aroma of the chicken and it's savory broth made her think of the soup the bodega a few blocks from McCoy's old place made every Thursday morning.

"You must eat," Ivan said indifferently, as he sat beside her.

Malinowski looked up into the hard grey eyes that watched her without emotion. She wondered what exactly had been added to the soup that her captor was so anxious to have to taste. As if reading her mind the man shook his head.

"You worry for nothing. At least for now," he said as he reached into the bag and handed her a plastic soup."You're DA, he's bought you more time. That means we need to keep you fit, for now."

"What do you mean," she said before she could stop her self. "How did he buy me time?"

As soon as the words left her mouth she instinctively cowered, fearing retribution. Instead Ivan reached into his back pocket and handed her an article that had been clipped from a newspaper.

Malinowski set the Styrofoam container down beside the bed and studied the paper carefully. Although the byline and author had been cut out, Malinowski knew by the way the writer phrased his information that the story had come from a page six article in the _New York Ledger._

As she read she felt a spark of anger, as well as a twinge of shame. Ivan chuckled softly as he replaced the article with the soup and spoon.

"You are displeased by your …your… white knight," he asked with obvious amusement.

"I'm a prosecutor," she said more to herself than to the man beside her." I'm 'displeased' whenever a criminal goes unpunished."

"You _were_ a prosecutor," he said bluntly."Now you are… _not_. Now, eat. Eat unless you would like me to feed you myself."

Warily Malinowski brought the steamy liquid to her lips. As soon as she tasted the salty broth she knew how close to home she had to be.

"Keep eating," Ivan commanded as he met her wide eyes."When you finish there is soda. Drink that too. This will keep your stomach…how you say? This will keep your stomach calm."

She looked up from the soup and waited for Ivan to nod, granting her permission to continue to speak.

"Your concern for my health is touching, if not surprising," she said carefully.

"My dear," he began as he leaned back to rest his head against the wall. "I have seen many women come and go this way. Many much younger, much more marketable. Right now, you are a commodity with significant value to my employer. It is in both our best interests things stay that way for as long as they can."

"It won't happen a second time," she with equal candor as discarded the empty soup container and opened the can of 7up."I don't know why Ja- John gave into your demands the first time, but he won't make that mistake again. The mayor, his own superiors, won't allow it."

Ivan shrugged his shoulders and carefully ran his cool fingers over her cheek.

"For your sake, I hope you are mistaken."

Malinowski bit her lip and focused on the taste of the warm soda. As she had eaten, her body had begun to relax. Her body temperature had begun to rise and the soreness in her joints and torso seemed to subside slightly. As alarming as his touch was, somehow, it seemed almost bearable…

"Oh damn," she suddenly hissed as she looked sharply at the empty container, then back at her captor. Impulsively, she moved to the edge of the mattress and brought the blanket closer to her body.

"I told you at the hotel, you learn fast," he said knowingly, as he moved closer."You will find survival can come with moments of pleasure as well as moments of pain. This is what I tell the girls I get ready for work, this is what I tell you, as well."

She felt her body shudder as a hand ran slowly through her hair and continued down her neck to rest underneath the blanket on her right breast.

"Where's your camera," she retorted, hoping the bitterness in her voice masked her horror."I thought part of my 'value' came from the pleasure your boss gets tormenting 'my DA', as you call him."

As Ivan felt Malinowski's body respond to the caresses his experienced fingers gave her breast, he paused to meet her confused gaze and smiled knowingly back at her.

"You are correct," he said as took the can from her hand and began to pull the blanket away from her."But you see, after Dmitri's fumbled… interlude… with you in the shower it became obvious to me that before we can send your DA another present, you must first be taught how to relax."

Malinowski felt his hand wipe away the tears that had begun to make their way from her eyes down her cheeks.

_I should have known better, _she told herself miserably. _The soup…I should have known…._

"This feels good, doesn't it, Brooke," Ivan asked as his mouth fell on a breast.

As her back instinctively arched, she could hear his soft laughter. She could feel the heat growing between her legs as he laid her back on the mattress.

Hearing the sound of her given name sickened her on two levels; the first one being the intimacy such an action implied. Second, his words told her they knew for certain who she was.

"Drugging a woman into submission makes whatever you do to her a violation, no matter how it feels," she snapped as she cursed her body's betrayal.

"A violation," he repeated with exaggerated fervor."Brave words... brave, expensive, educated words. By the time I finish with you you'll be saying much more…common… words, I promise you. Like 'please' 'harder', 'faster'."

"Why," she gasped, as his hands began to move lower.

Ivan paused and suddenly moved closer, bringing his mouth unexpectedly down on hers. As she struggled to push him back, his hand pressed against her neck, forcing her mouth to remain against his. As he pried her lips apart, the taste of chicken soup from _Lupe's _was replaced by the faint taste of vodka and cheap cigars.

The way he kissed her answered her question in ways his breathless, menacing words minutes later, would only hint at.

"Why? Because I _can_," he responded as his hand reached between her legs."The first tape we sent your DA only shinged his heart. The next one will char is soul. "


	16. AttorneyClient

As the portly defense lawyer entered the main interrogation room at the 2 7, he first did a double take upon seeing DA Jack McCoy, then he turned to glare at Jake Cohen.

"Jake what the hell is this, "Stan Webber demanded. "When my secretary said you needed me down at the 2 7, I assumed this was about a homicide, albeit a homicide a ways out of _your_ jurisdiction. Why the hell is_ he_ here?"

"Listen Stan, "Cohen began as he motioned to the seat next to Jack McCoy."You know what's going on with Brooke right now. Cut the man some slack and just..."

"After the article in the_ Ledger_ this morning, it's obvious what's going on with Brooke. To me and every member of the New York Bar," Webber shot back. "Same old Jack. First, you trade my client to the Russians like he's a pound of borsht, now you think you can help Brooke out of this disaster you're responsible for, by opening the flood gates and releasing..."

"I'm not going to sit here and apologize for seeing that a man who sold women as if _they_ were pounds of borsht got what was coming to him," McCoy snapped as he started to stand. "Jake, I told you this was nothing but a waste of time. Any man that would defend scum like Karl Rostov isn't going to give a damn if Brooke lives or dies."

"That's crap McCoy," Webber thundered. "Brooke and I go back since before she married Sam Prescott. Ever since I heard about what happened, I've been just sick about it."

"Then let's all sit down and try to help her," Cohen interjected. "Listen, Stan. The police have some leads that I can't discuss just yet. But, I can tell you, they are trying to find what Rostov referred to as his "Trainers'. From what we can gather, there are about a dozen teams of two that Rostov used to..."

McCoy shook his head impatiently as Cohen looked at him uncertainly letting his voice falter.

"He used them to turn his victims into sex slaves before he put them out as prostitutes."

The lines on Webber's forehead deepened as he nodded and let out a knowing sigh.

"I would have thought most of those men would be serving time here after the penthouse bust," he said warily.

"About half of them are," McCoy admitted. "The others have dropped out of site. The Russians are trying to help us locate them. But given the time constraints…Stan, did Rostov give you any names? Ever talk about using anyone named John?"

"'John,'" the defense attorney sputtered."A guy named _'John'_ involved with a pimp? Come on McCoy, is this your idea of a joke..."

"It's the name Brooke gave us just before she was assaulted," McCoy shot back desperately.

"What?"

"There was a tape," McCoy explained as he stood and turned his back to the other men, fighting to regain his composer, before he turned back around. "They made Brooke…she told us their demands before…"

Webber's face paled as he nodded in quiet understanding. He looked pleadingly at Cohen, who looked back at him undaunted.

"Before you go into the defense attorney's standard song and dance about privilege, remember Rostov is in a Russian prison. He's not only not your client anymore, but the Russians have assured Jack that after this stunt, Rostov won't be in any position to worry about any kind of rights..."

Webber opened his mouth to respond…to debate the ethics of letting the Russians become Jack McCoy's private route around New York's decision to put the death penalty in limbo. But the look in Cohen's eyes made him think better of it.

As much as he was appalled being put in the position of walking a slippery slope on attorney / client privilege, he knew he couldn't live with himself if he held back at Malinowski's expense. In the last five years, he'd known three other prosecutors that the Russian Mafia had silenced. Allowing the woman he remembered known for almost two decades…the woman who'd beat the pants off of him in his first criminal trial and then turned around and took him to dinner at Islip's only four star restaurant…to allow that woman to become one more dead prosecutor…

"I need to call my office. My assistant can pull Karl's file and fax you over what you need."


	17. The ConEd Man

By the time the scalding water had finally turned cold, Malinowski's body was numb. As she tried to scrub the memory of Ivan's touch off of every part of her, she failed to notice the blood that had begun to trickle from her sick, due to her fingernails piecing her skin as she scrubbed.

Even as she shut the water off, flashes of his touch, his voice, his taste flooded her mind.

She couldn't get the self satified leer he'd given her on his way out, to leave her consciouness. It still sickened her to know way her body yielded to him, more times than she dared try to count…

_"I think there may be hope for you after all," he said from the doorway."__Fresh, you not are not.__ But, you are surprisingly tight. Tighter than some of these young girls __that __appear so innocent at first, but __are in__ reality, used goods before they even get to us. Maybe we find you a new way to be useful after we're done with your DA." _

Distracted by the vile words that ran through her mind, Malinowski slipped as she started out of the shower, her head banging with the 'thump' on the unfinished shower wall.

Crying out as a new wave of pain hit her, she staggered back as the tears began to flow. Unable to decide which sickened her more…being used so easily by her captor or knowing it was just the start of the indignities that would go on until they tired of her…Malinowski gave into her fears and sobbed freely.

As she carefully rubbed her head, her gaze fell on the shower wall and she thoughtfully ran her hand over the hard concrete.

_Maybe…maybe if I do it just right, _she thought as her mind turned a possibility for 'escape' her she hadn't dared to consider up to that point.

Stepping completely in to the stall, she lowered herself to the wet floor. After a long moment spent weighing her options and against the odds of living to see the people she loved once more, she lowered her head and then threw it back against the wall with as much force as she could give.

"Damnit…all those god damn fucking autopsy reports," she screamed in frustration, as she rubbed the back of her head. "Eighteen fucking years of talking to ME's and I can't do better than this? No, no. We'll just keep trying until I get right!"

Ignoring her throbbing skull, Malinowski threw her head forward and back, over and over until she thought she'd pass out.

_I can do this. I can do this_… she told herself as her vision began to blur and her thoughts ran together without rhythm or reason.

McCoy's face when he learned she'd slept with Prescott was filled her thoughts. The vision almost immediately replaced by Prescott's shattered stare after she called out for McCoy while she lay in her husband's arms…McCoy's cutting remarks echoing over and over…

_"…the only man you haven't laid… __haven't __laid__…."_

_"_Jack, I'm sorry," she muttered as her eyes became heavy."I'm so sorry, I let you down…"

Next it was McCoy's face when he stepped out of the bathroom and found Malinowski and Mike Logan…

Logan. Logan's voice suddenly came to mind; saying something she couldn't understand. His voice sounding so reassuring, so close…so close…

The taste of blood made Malinowski open her eyes to find the source. Following the thin trial up her face and passed her hairline, she smiled weakly, realizing she'd done more damage to herself than she first realized. As she started to position herself to make yet another attempt at fatal blow, an unexpected sound made her freeze.

"ConEd, anybody in there?"

_Oh. My. God_, she thought as she leapt off the floor, staggering back against the wall as pain slowed her efforts.

_ConEd__ my ASS!_

_888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888_

Nearly delirious with relief, Malinowski steadied herself and moved towards the other room. By the time she reached the archway that separated the two rooms, the door had opened. Her eyes widened; first with recognition of the face of the man wearing a ConEd uniform next in horror, when 'Spider Man" came up from behind him and laid Mike Logan out with a metal pipe.

"Enjoy the company while you can," her captor said, as he grabbed the radio that fell from Logan's hand and slammed the door behind them.

"Oh my God! Mike," she whispered as she knelt beside Logan's still body."Mike, open your eyes."

The savvy grin Logan gave her when he looked up into her panic stricken face, melted away almost immediately. Logan carefully sat up and ran a hand over Malinowski's bloody face, as he handed her a handkerchief and looked around room for something to cover her battered body with.

"How long have you been bleeding," he asked as he retrieved the blanket from the mattress.

"Don't worry about me," she said impatiently."You're the one that just got hit."

"Yeah but, don't take this the wrong way," he said as he wrapped the blanket over her,"as many times as I've dreamed about getting you out of your clothes, I never thought it would be like this."

Malinowski could feel her face heat up with an embarrassed glow. Before she could reply, Logan had pulled his cell phone from inside his shoe and was telling his partner to move in and bring back up.

"I thought ...saw you get hit and I thought we were done," she said, as tears of relief began to overflow and fall freely down her cheeks.

"You should know better after all those years in the DA's office," Logan replied with a grin. "No cop worth a damn goes into a hostage situation without back up. By the time I get us out of here, Eddie'll have tall, dark, and stupid cuffed and on his way to Riker's. Give me a sec and we'll get you on your feet."

Logan pulled the Beretta from the holster on his ankle and aimed at the lock. After waiting for Malinowski to cover her ears, the room thundered and seconds later the door began to swing open.

Logan could tell by the way Malinowski spoke and the dialation of her eyes, she was going into shock. As she reached for his shoulder to steady herself, Logan carefully lifted her off of her feet and into his arms.

"I think someone else was supposed carry me over a threshold," she said weakly as her arms rested around his neck.

"Yeah," Logan replied with genuine interest."Ed tells me you two went to the falls to tie the knot. Gotta tell ya Brooke, if this isn't a sign McCoy isn't the right guy for you, I don't know what is."

"You're just jealous because I didn't get a chance to invite you," she retorted as she fought to keep her eyes focused."You missed out on kissing the bride. Not that anyone would want to kiss this face now."

Logan shook his head as he bent his head down and met her gaze with the inquiring look he'd given her several weeks before.

"I wouldn't bet on that, counselor," he said as his lips carefully met hers, completely unaware of the figure that stood silently in the doorway behind him.


	18. Oh No, You Didn't

"Damn Mike, didn't five years walking a beat teach you _anything_? Not only is Brooke Malinowski a victim, she's engaged to the DA," Anita Van Buren said with disgust, after closing her office door.

"I swear Lieutenant, it wasn't how it looked," Logan began, stopping short when Van Buren held up a hand.

"_Please_," she countered in tone that left no room for explanations. "I may be married Mike, but I'm not dead. Is getting into another pissing match with Jack McCoy worth not only trashing your career, but risking an indictment?"

Logan shook his head in amazement.

"You want to bring me up on criminal charges?"

"Mike, I'm still trying to decide whether to suspend you or take this to your commanding officer to deal with," she said, as she wearily took a seat behind her desk.

"After all these years, if you think I'd take advantage of any victim, maybe you _better_ call Ross," Logan retorted, his look of defiant stubbornness, not quite hiding his pain at having been accused of something so repugnant.

Not that she was ready to admit it to Logan, but Van Buren hadn't been sure what to think since she had found herself staring wide eyed and open mouthed at Logan, as he leaned in to kiss Brooke Malinowski.

At the time, her first thought had been CPR … that Logan was simply trying to revive the battered woman he held in his arms. But, the positioning was all wrong and the look of fondness in his eyes as he turned towards Van Buren, left no her question in her mind as to the personal nature of his actions.

"Oh, no you didn't," she responded, without giving an inch."You _didn't_ just try to put this on _me_, detective. The only reason you're not in the hospital or sitting in Riker's right now, is because_ I _didn't want Jack coming down to that basement until I had a chance to see for myself that the crime scene was clear. When I pulled rank on him, I was doing it for his personal safety. I had no idea I was saving him from dealing with your knee jerk tendency to take every opportunity you get to sabotage your career."

Van Buren gave him a knowing nod, as she watched a look of comprehension replace the look of stubborn confidence.

" Humm humm. That's right, Mike. The only reason McCoy wasn't the one standing in that door way, was because I was the CO on the scene. Now, why don't you cut the crap and tell what is going on between you two and maybe, just maybe, you'll still have a shield when I decide to let you walk out of here."

"McCoy was there," Logan said with disbelief."I'd only phoned in less than fifteen minutes before I saw you…how did he..."

"Mike, they were keeping Brooke in his building. Jack was in his old apartment when Green got your call."

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Jack McCoy listened as the doctor filled in the group of men with him, on his fiancée's condition. While Cohen, Collins, Green, and the most recent addition to the group, Andrew Malinowski, listened gravely, McCoy's eyes never left the woman behind the glass window of the ICU unit.

Every now and again a word or phase would catch the DA attention and he would turn slightly or quickly catch the emergency room doctor's eye with a raised eyebrow. He'd heard it so many times before with so many victims over the years, all he wanted to do was have it over and be free to sit with her… to hold her hand… to just listen to the sound of her breathing.

When the doctor had started the briefing with words like 'non threatening' and 'precautionary', McCoy knew the worst was over. Green had caught up with him, while Van Buren secured the scene and assured him the officers on the scene had the suspect in custody and that Van Buren herself had seen that Mike Logan was taking Malinowski out and to a waiting ambulance.

It wasn't until the doctor mentioned the extent of the head injuries that McCoy turned away from the window to face the group.

"…we should know for certain when her MRI results come back, but for the next several hours I want to keep her a wake and as alert as possible."

"Doctor," McCoy interjected abruptly," what have you determined the origin was to those injuries to be?"

The doctor eyed McCoy carefully for a moment before answering. Cohen gave the DA a worried glance and gave Andrew Malinowski a quick tap on the arm.

"Andy, I'm going to need some help with the paperwork for Brooke. Why don't you come with me to admissions?"

"I'm sorry gentlemen," the doctor said with obvious confusion."Which one of you is Ms. Malinowski's next of kin?"

The husky redhead sighed and turned to Cohen.

"Mr. Malinowski is the patient's next of kin," Cohen explained nonchalantly. "However, I have medical power of attorney."

"My sister and I have different ideas about the meaning of 'extraordinary measures'."

"I see," the doctor said discreetly."Well, if you gentleman are ready to talk to admissions, they are just one floor down."

McCoy waited until the pair were out of ear shot, before repeating his question to the doctor.

"Well, Ms. Malinowski denies it," the doctor said uncomfortably."But I've done this long enough to know self inflicted injuries when I see them. Given the circumstances, it's completely understandable. Still, I want one of our resident psychologists to talk with her before we think about releasing her, just as a precaution."

McCoy nodded as his suspicions were confirmed. As much a he'd hoped to be wrong, experience told him he wasn't. His professional knowledge told him how the injuries occurred, his personal knowledge told him why. He also knew why the doctor was insisting on a visit with a psychologist and how much Malinowski would fight it.

"Doctor, would it be all right if Ms. Malinowski's own doctor evaluated her," McCoy asked."She hasn't seen Dr. Olivet in several months but..."

"Olivet? Dr. Elizabeth Olivet," the doctor said with a smile, as McCoy nodded."Dr. Olivett is more than welcome to do the evaluation. Now, about the sexual assault. The rape kit has already been sent to you SVU at the 16th precinct. A Detective Benson said she'd be back to talk to Ms. Malinowski, as well."

McCoy let out a small sigh of relief. He knew a report to SVU would have to be filed. The fact someone Malinowski already knew would be speaking to her reassured McCoy, as well as the fact he himself knew Olivia Benson to be an exemplary advocate for the victims she worked with.

"I'm sorry to cut this short," the doctor said as he took a step away, upon seeing a nurse down the hall signal to him."I need to check on another patient. Was there anything else, gentlemen?"

As the doctor started down the hall, Jeff Collins took out his cell phone and frowned.

"Jack, I have to take this. Someone from Niagara Falls is calling."

"That's odd," McCoy said with a frown. "I know they have already given Interpol whatever information they had. Go on and take the call. I want to check on Brooke."

McCoy turned back to the glass and moved towards the door. Malinowski could see he was about to open the door and gave him a weak smile of encouragement, that faded into a look of puzzlement, when she saw her ex-husband place a hand on McCoy shoulder.

As the two men exchanged words, she watched with interest from her bed. The nurse continued to monitor the beeps and drips of the various machines around her. The doctor had explained to her the importance of staying awake until the test results came back, so she fought the urge to close her eyes and tried to stay focused on the two men outside her door. As the conversation grew more intense, her curiosity began to peak.

As mush as she wanted to know what was going on between the two men, her body demanded her attention, as well. Every part of her ached. Between the abuse, the deprivation, and her own attempts to hold on to some sort of illusion of control over her destiny, her muscles screamed for relief.

The state of her body was a source of distraction, as well as relief. At least she could feel.

That meant she was alive and it appeared she was going to stay that way.

Alive and the love of her life was almost within her reach.


	19. Just the Facts

"It's not your fault. And, I don't mind telling you, it pisses me off that those had to be the first words out of my mouth, instead of 'God I love you, Jack.'"

McCoy could feel his lips turn upward, as he took a seat beside his fiancée and reached for her hand as he leaned close to her.

He gave her an inquiring look when she slid her hand out of his grasp and met his gaze with a look of stubborness.

"No," she said firmly."Not until I hear you say it and you make me believe you mean it."

"I love you, too" he said with amusement, as she moved her head carefully from side to side. "No, don't do that. You'll make your head hurt worse."

"You would know. I bet you're in the throes of a migraine right now,"she said softly, as she returned his smile."Now, tell me what I want to hear."

McCoy looked away as he bit his tongue. He knew it would be far from the first time he'd told a lie, personally or otherwise. But it was the first time he could remember out right lying to_ her_. When he looked up, he had his best game face on and most charming smile firmly in place.

"We're both prosecutors, Brooke. I won't say I haven't felt guilty as hell since you were taken, but now that you're here, I'm just grateful to be having this conversation with you. I know this kind of danger is part of the job. Both of our jobs."

Malinowski grin widened until it hurt.

"Jack McCoy, I _know_ you're a better liar than that. Your reputation precedes you, remember," she said as she put her hand in his. "I never blamed you, because it wasn't your fault. I won't be able to stand it if you can't forgive yourself; if you can't stop blaming yourself."

McCoy knew it wasn't the time for laying his guilt at Malinowski's feet. As hard as she was trying to reassure him, he could see how much pain she was in. The effort it took for her to move, told him she the last thing she needed to do was over exert herself.

He'd already bullied his way into getting his hands on the preliminary reports by law enforcement and the medical staff. He knew exactly what she was dealing with physically and emotionally; there was no way he was adding to it.

"I never had to lie to get what I wanted before," he replied with a roguish smile.

"And what exactly is it that you want now," she asked as fatigue began to overtake her.

"I want you to stop worrying about me and tell me why you've never knitted me a cap?"

"Knitted," she repeated, as her eyes widened in surprise."Where did you get the idea…"

"No, wait. You don't _knit_, you _crochet,_" he said smugly; smiling at the success his attempt to change the subject had been."I know you hate the fedora, so why haven't you made me something to replace it?"

McCoy's eyes twinkled with undisguised delight at the sound of her soft, but audible, laughter.

"Cohen. I bet he's all ready been down to _Yarnmart_ , in anticipation of my return," she said with a chuckle. "Be careful what you wish for. You haven't seen my 'projects', have you?"

"I'll bet you made _Jake_ a hat," he said with a playful pout."He _is _your favorite person on the planet."

Malinowski knew what her lover was trying to do and she allowed him the momentary pleasure of thinking he'd succeeded in distracting her from her questions and her misery.

"No honey, _you're_ really my favorite person on the planet," she said as she patted his hand.

"Then prove it, counselor."

"If I go to the trouble of blistering my index finger for this, you have to wear it," she warned. "To work. In front of people you know. _But_ if you let on to anybody I do something as domestic as crafts, _bad_ things will happen McCoy. No one ever knows I made it for you … Deal?"

Before McCoy could respond he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you two, but Jack, I need to see you outside for just a second," Jeff Collins said.

"Jack I'm sorry, But thought it would be better if you heard it from me," Collins began a few minutes later.

McCoy waved the other man's apology away.

"What did Interpol say?"

"Apparently, the lead detective received a call from Sam Prescott's assistant at your states attorney's office, no more than an hour ago. Seems because Brooke crossed not only international, but state lines as well during her ordeal, your justice department is taking jurisdiction over the case against her captors."

McCoy nodded gravely as he thought about his discussion with the federal prosecutor, minutes before. After Prescott finished asking all of the expected questions about Malinowski and her condition; he had went on to inform McCoy of, not only the fact Prescott's office had taken jurisdiction in the prosecution of Malinowski's captor, but that Prescott would more than likely be handling the case himself.

It had taken every ounce of self control McCoy had not to thunder back a snide retort regarding the chain of events leading to such an outcome, as well as not to confront Prescott abut his motives for seeing such a move.

_"Just a twist of fate that this case gets assigned to the Southern district, considering all the jurisdictional tug of war that goes on over any case that crosses at least three state lines,"McCoy asked shortly._

Prescott didn't even try to pretend the assignment was a coincidence. Instead his pale green eyes met McCoy's accruing glare, without a blink.

_"I'd be lyin' to you Jack, if I didn't say I pulled quite a few strings and plan to pull several more, to see that justice is done in this case. You and I both know New York's death penalty could be in limbo indefinitely. When I get a conviction in federal court, I can pretty much guarantee this bastard will end up with a needle in his arm."_

_"Until Canada seeks extradition,"_ McCoy said bluntly_."Remember the initial crime took place..."_

_"Trust me Jack,"_ Prescott said with annoying confidence."_There are ways to lose a priso__ner__ in the__ federal__ system until extradition is no longer a concern."_

_"And I thought _you_ were supposed to be the moral man in Brooke's life_," McCoy retorted incredulously.

_"__Morality has nothing to do with justice. __There's nothing moral about what happened to Mal_," the other man said before turning on his heel and walking away.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

By the time Malinowski had finished her hospital lunch of salad, jello, cheese sandwich, and milk her hospital room looked like a florist shop. Just as she opened the card that had been perched on the most recently delivered edition, a man in a three piece suit stepped up to hand her a vase filled with pink roses and laurel.

"Thanks, Sam I was wondering when you'd be back," Malinowski said as her ex-husband gave her a dutiful kiss on the cheek."I figured it would be the next time Jack was here, since you had so much fun yanking his chain yesterday."

"Aw Mal, it wasn't like that at all," he said as he reclaimed the vase and set beside the empty tray on the cart beside the bed. "I was just givin' McCoy a heads up on a case, that's all."

Malinowski started to nod and thought better of it, as she rubbed her forehead.

"Yeah, I heard Jack and Jeff talking about that. Sam, you know I appreciate what you want to do, but you need to just let the Canadians and Interpol-"

"Listen, I didn't come here to upset you. I can here to find out how you're feelin' and to see if there was anything else you wanted to tell me before the arraignment this afternoon."

"MRI came back negative for any fractures or internal bleeding. The worst of the injuries was a mild concussion. Looks like I'll be out of the hospital in a day. Maybe two at the most," she said cheerfully omitting the required pshy evaluation."Now, listen, Sam. If it were just a kidnapping count or even a kidnapping with intent to commit murder, maybe this would be do able. But come on. You can't expect me or the trial judge for that matter, to allow you to prosecute a case with me as a victim when you have counts like rape one, sodomy, kidnapping with intent to-"

"Stop it Brooke," Prescott said sharply."Stop rattlin' off charges like where talkin' about your caseload. This is_ you_ were talkin' about. That's why I want to spare you havin' to go through this with some prosecutor who doesn't know you from Eve and might plea bargain it down to get some leverage against one of this guy's bosses."

"Sam, that's what a prosecutor is_ supposed_ to do," she argued."Use the small fish to get to the big fish. That's how I nailed Esparaza way back when. That's how you nailed Valenski."

"This _isn't_ the same thing," he said immediately regretting his words.

"It never is," he said continued, ignoring her disapproving stare, "when one of our own gets caught in the cross fire."

"Well maybe it should be," Malnowski said impatiently."These people pulled this off with their mastermind in a Russian prison. The more of them we put away, the tighter we'll seal off Rostov's pipeline."

Prescott shifted uncomfortably and began to rub his ear. If Rostov could engineer a kidnapping from prison several countries away, no one who'd crossed him was safe. The chances of another kidnapping would have been probable if not for the swiftness of Russian justice.

"Jack didn't tell you about the Russian, huh?"

Malinowski knew she hadn't given McCoy a chance to do much more than hold her hand and trade amusing remarks. Both of them were so concerned about the others emotional state, that neither even tried to talk about the kidnapping or the investigation.

"We were too busy trying to decide on a color for the cap I'm making Jack, to discuss anything else," she said with a smirk. "So, you tell me."

Prescott's eyes widened as he bit back a smile as the image of a cap she'd made him the first year they were married came to his mind. A cap that's shape resembled a lop sided dunce cap.

"Well now, _that_ should keep you busy for a while," he said not daring to look at her.

"Just tell me Sam."

"All right. Rostov is dead," he said flatly."When he refused to cooperate with the authorities, he had an 'accident' on his way to the dining room. Someone slashed his throat. I guess the Russians wanted to make an example out of him to discourage others from thinking about using their prison system as a safe haven to plan and carry out international crime sprees."

Prescott could see the battered face lose what was left of its color, as Malinowski clenched her fists.

"Brooke, Sam. Are you allowed to have more than one visitor at a time," asked the portly figure in the door way.

"When the second visitor is Stan Webber, all bets are off," she replied, as she motioned for him to come in."Are the courts closed today or are you here to schedule a deposition?"

"Deposition," Webber asked as he shook Prescott's out stretched hand.

"Well, you _are_ a defense attorney. A defense attorney that's tried more than one mob case," Malinowski said candidly."I thought maybe your firm had taken on the guys that..."

"Never," Webber said with more than a little shock."If the firm took the case on, I'd ask to be removed from consideration to handle it. My God Brooke, I helped Jack prove Ivan Janovich was involved. How can you think I'd help keep him out of prison after what..."

"You did _what_," Malinowski asked incredulously.

Webber exchanged concerned glances with Prescott and repeated his earlier revelation.

"And what exactly did Jack threaten you with to make you violate attorney client privilege? Don't even try to tell me he got a judge to issue a warrant for your files first."

"Jack didn't have to threaten me to-"

"If you lie to me Stan, I swear I'll call the senior partner of your firm and tell him you gave the DA client information without a warrant."

Webber's look of concern immediately changed to a look of angry contempt.

"This is the thanks I get for trying to keep you alive? Thanks Brooke, it's good to know what twenty years of friendship means to you."

"Twenty years is long enough for me to know you'd never violate privilege on your own. No good defense attorney would," she said softening her tone as she reacted to the hurt in Webber's voice."And you're not just good, you're an amazing attorney, Stan. Your ethics are beyond reproach. I hate the fact I'm the reason you violated not only your morals, but the law."

Webber reached for her hand as tears came to his eyes.

"And_ I_ hate seeing _you_ like this…like this because I defend people like Karl Rostov," he replied as he ran the back of a hand over his eyes."Listen, you need to rest. I'll come take you to lunch when you're up to it."

As Webber disappeared down the hallway, Malinowski pounded a fist on the mattress.

"God damn it, what the hell is wrong with Jack. How could he ..."

"He did what any man that loves you would do," Prescott shot back, more than a little annoyed at having to defend the man he held responsible for his ex-wife's kidnapping.

"And _you_," she said in a tone that held enough raw rage to startle her former husband."_You_ think it's okay Rostov had this 'accident'? The man was on their death row anyway, so... "

"Mal calm down. I knew you wouldn't be dancing in the streets over this, but let's face facts here..."

"Facts," she spat back at him. "The fact is thousands of people go missing every year in this country and no one releases a suspected mafia banker to buy them time. The fact is dozens of women were kidnapped and brutalized because of Karl Rostov and no one had the man assassinated because of it. The fact is, I'm an officer of the court and if everyone would just do their fucking jobs the system would work. Whether or not that means I live to see it work, should be beside the point. You know it and Jack knows it too."


	20. Conflicting Jurisdictions

"You know it and Jack knows it too."

Sam Prescott dropped the bags in his hand on plush beige carpet of Danielle Melnick's bedroom and extited the room; making a bee line for the liquor cart in the living room. Melnick's words were still echoing in his ear when she joined him a few minutes later.

"The last train to Islip left a half an hour ago," she said as she took one of the two brandy snifters from his hand."So unless you plan to swim home, you can run, but you can't hide Sam."

"I wasn't plannin' on doin' either," he said wearily."I was just tryin' to avoid havin' a confrontation not an hour after pickin' you up from the airport._ I _have been lookin' forward to your homecomin' all week, darlin'. Let's not spoil it by fightin' about my ex-wife."

"We're not fighting about your ex-wife," Melnick said pensively."We're fighting about _you_."

"Sweetheart, why can't you see it doesn't matter," Prescott said with exasperation."The judge replaced me with Abbie Carmichael as lead prosecutor. Besides the way things are going, Canada may be granted extradition before this thing gets to trial anyway, so..."

"So does that mean you knew you'd never take it to trial from the start? We're you just screwing with Jack one more time or were you grand standing for Brooke," Melnick asked bluntly.

"Danielle how can you even..."

"Because I'm not stupid," she shot back ignoring the hurt in his eyes.

The day trip she'd taken to Vermont to supervise a deposition for a pending case, had turned into a weeklong disaster. While she was dealing with the fall out, she had kept track of Malinowski's kidnapping and subsequent release, via the media.

The night she left town she saw her lover big as life on the evening news, announce his intention to not only see that the case fell under federal jurisdiction, but to take on the role of lead prosecutor.

If she hadn't already given him her word, Melnick would have had her assistant offer her services to the accused pro bono, just to make her position unmistakably clear to her to sam Prescott. Although she knew going into the relationship Prescott still had strong feelings for his former wife Melnick had hoped, in time, those feelings would fade. It was that hope that had kept her in the game in spite of the strain dating Sam Prescott put on her friendships with both the DA and her fellow defense attorney's. The latter shocked and appalled Melick that was not only dating, but obviously in love with, a 'Fed'.

When she learned Prescott had used just about every favor the man had owed to him to get the case ...i.e. to get his hands on any and all records pertaining to the case... Melnick wasn't sure how much more she could tolerate.

"No one in this room thinks you're stupid," Prescott said, taking the glass from her hand. "You're not only one of the most intelligent people I've ever met; you're a beautiful and compassionate woman. You're not only the woman I want sharin' my bed, you're the woman I want sharin' my life."

Before she could respond, Prescott took her in his arms and kissed her in a way she'd kissed with a mixture of tenderness and urgent passion made Melnick's head spin, as she brought her arms tightly around his neck. By the time Prescott brought her back up and released her, she had to remind herself of the reason they were still standing in her living room and not her bedroom.

"That was a nice distraction, but why'd you do it Sam," she asked as she tried to catch her breath while moving to the sofa."Why wasn't it enough for you to just know she'd been found alive and was safe?"

Prescott sighed and took a long swallow of his brandy. He took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa and thoughtfully chewed on his lower lips several seconds before he leaned back and tried to respond.

"To be honest, I'm not sure why. When I heard she'd been found alive, I was relieved. But my first thought wasn't to charge down to the hospital and declare my undying love," he began with a wink."Nah. I made a few calls, just to see if the captors had been...well... captured. I left you a voice mail and went on about my day. It wasn't until I went to _Clancy's_ to grab a quick lunch that I even thought about going after that case."

Melnick looked at him curiously as she slipped her heels off and moved slightly closer to the center of the sofa.

"What happened at _Clancy's_?"

"The bartender had CNN on. I saw a clip of them taking Mal out of McCoy's building..."

"McCoy's…they were holding Brooke in _Jack's_ apartment building," Melnick said as she thought of the guilt fest her friend must be going through.

"Yep, "Prescott said as he continued, "looks like she's been right under his nose the whole time. Anyway, seeing her bloody and broken…damn it Danielle … when the commentator remarked on the possibility the case would be heard in Canada, it hit me. Those animals treated her worse than you would a dog and they wouldn't even be facing the death penalty. That's when I decided to step in. I knew if the case were heard in federal court I could easily seek the death penalty when the time came."

"Sam, you know how I feel about the death penalty."

"I know how you feel about my ex wife, as well," he said closing the distance between them and placing an arm around her shoulders."While I won't say I agree with you on either subject, I will say I respect your feelin's. But these are two issues we will just have to agree to disagree on. Those men would have used her up before they eventually killed her, Danielle. I want to see them pay, just as much as if they'd taken you or Lindsay or even Abbie Carmichael. I'd feel this way if l any woman I care about went through what Mal went through."

Melnick sighed and leaned against his chest as she looked up into his eyes.

"You must think I'm not only a fool, but a petty one, at that."

"Danielle Melnick is _nobody's_ fool," he responded as he hugged her tightly."As for petty,never. I know my relationship with Mal is more than you bargained for. Most women would have given me some sort of ultimatum about it long before now."

Prescott quickly placed a finger on Melnick already parted lips, knowing immediately what was coming.

"And, for the record, that in no way was meant to imply you are 'most women'"

Melnick shook her head in disbelief.

"I'll give Brooke this: She taught you well while you two were together."

"Listen, honey. I know it takes more than a kiss and some sweet talk to convince Danielle Melnick to let anything go," he as he stood and offered her his hand."But it's late and we're both tired so either throw me out or tell which bed you want me to sleep in."

Melnick's hesitated for a moment. Her pride told her a man she couldn't have completely, was a man she didn't need. Her heart told her, what she _did_ have was too valuable to give up without a fight.

Melnick ignored his hand and began removing the sofa cushions.

Prescott nodded, resigned to sleep on the hide a bed and reached forward to move the coffee table to one side.

"Why are you just standing there," she asked as opened the bed.

"Why am I…what _should_ I be doin'?"

Melnick pointed first to the empty brandy snifters, then to the fireplace.

"You promised me an evening by fire light before I left town," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed."Tired or not, a promise is still a promise."

"That it is," he said, realizing how narrowly he'd dodged the bullet this time.

As he moved towards the fireplace he wondered how soon and how close the next shot would be.


	21. Homecoming

When McCoy agreed to the terms Malinowski had laid out for him, the fact that it was early April and unseasonably warm, had not been lost on him. The weather that was hardly cap wearing weather.

The morning forecast had been for more showers and a high of 45 degrees, with no change until after the weekend.

As he put on the grey wool cap, he wondered for the tenth time that day, how badly global warming was affecting the weather in Manhattan. He also wondered how fast he could get from the tenth floor to the waiting town car without being seen.

"Jack, I'm glad I caught you before you..."

McCoy gave his new EADA a scathing glare, meant to make the younger man think twice about any comment, that was not of a professional nature.

"What is it Mike?"

Although Cutter hadn't worked for McCoy long, the new EADA had already learned provoking the boss was not only unwise, but an invitation to grief. He could feel his eyes begin to tear, as he fought the urge to laugh out loud at the sight of McCoy wearing a cap that was not only uneven and tight on his head, but pointed in a way that made Cutter think of Pinocchio's nose.

"Did you have something you wanted to say," McCoy growled impatiently.

"Humm yeah," he said running a quick hand over his eyes." I wanted to let you know the jury came back with a guilty verdict on the Conlin case. Connie thought you might want to join us at _Clancy's_ for a drink."

McCoy instantly lowered his head, regretting his harsh tone. The Conlin case had been tough from the start. Even with a few fumbles, McCoy had been impressed by Cutter's determination, as well as his willingness to take responsibility for those fumbles.

"Next time," McCoy said as he grabbed his green jacket from the rack."I promised Brooke I'd stop buy that yarn mart on Baxter Street before it closes..."

"Ah, so that's why…,"Cutter began, suddenly changing his mind when he saw McCoy's eyebrows rise."How is Brooke?"

McCoy leaned on the edge of his desk and pondered the question. It had been almost two weeks since Malinowski had left the hospital and McCoy had yet to see her let on how much damage…physically or emotionally...she'd suffered. With the exception of the heated exchange they'd had her first night home from the hospital, his fiancée had been uncharacteristically nonconfrontational, almost to the point of passivity.

"She's good, but not half as good as the guy who just landed that guilty verdict," a familiar voice said, Malinowski extended her hand."I just passed Connie in the hall. She told me about the Conlin verdict. Congratulations Mike."

Cutter grasped the hand. Although what was left of the bruises on her face were well hidden, behind the carefully applied make up, Cutter knew Malinowski was far from 'good'. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, noting both its clammy feel and the shaking he pretended not to notice.

"Connie deserves equal credit. It would never have happened if my second chair hadn't reminded me of the importance of making sure the jury sees your victim as a flesh and blood human being and not just another statistic."

"Spoken like a man who's found his professional soul mate," she said as she turned to survey her fiancée with a wicked grin. "I see you are a man of your word. Bet you're longing for the old fedora right about now."

"The cap is the perfect hat for me now that I'm DA," McCoy quipped as he gave her a quick kiss."The voters will either take me for someone that belongs in the corner or assume the tip grows every time I tell a lie. I thought I was meeting you at the loft?"

"Change in plans," she said as she gave him a playful smack in the arm."Liz was running behind, so I finished my appointment later than expected. Figured, since I was a short cab ride away, I'd come over and see if I could talk you into a drink at _Clancy's _before we head home."

"Actually, Mike just invited me to celebrate his win down there and I turned him down. I thought you wanted more yarn and the store closes..."

"Jack," she said, in a tone so scholding Cutter had to turn his back to the pair, as he coughed to stifle a chuckle."What kind of DA doesn't buy the first round when his number one prosecutor scores one for the Gipper? Besides, let's be honest. Giving me more yarn, is like giving a serial killer an unlimited supply of knives. Nothing but mayhem can come from either scenario."

888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

McCoy gestured to the cocktail waitress for another round and returned his attention to discreetly observing his fiancée. McCoy knew Malinowski was deliberately holding back on the amount of liquor she was consuming. Well aware that they were not only in a public place, but sitting with most of McCoy's staff from the Major Felonies Bureau, she was carefully nursing her second drink. Her full attention on Rubirosa, who was describing how Cutter managed to pull the Conlin case out of the crapper in the eleventh hour.

While he admired the way Malinowski had tried to return to business as usual, he had seen enough victims to know it was just a matter of time before the confident facade would begin to crack. He knew her well enough to know the visits to Liz Olivett were tolerated only because McCoy had been in the room when the doctor insisted on them. As soon as she returned to work in Long Island, Malinowski would suddenly be too busy to manage to keep any more appointments with the Manhattan psychologist.

_Not that I'd do any better with weekly visits to Liz Olivet__. I'd have said to hell with it after the firs__t__ session and never gone back_, he reminded himself as he nodded politely to Cutter and made the right noises to keep everyone, but his fiancée, satisfied he was following the conversation.

It wasn't her unspoken apathy toward the sessions that bothered him most. It wasn't even the fact Ivan Janovich had seemed to vanish into thin air after his partner finally broke and gave the police information on the other man's whereabout. The thing that worried him the most was how hell bent Malinowski was to pretend that the relationship between herself and McCoy hadn't been affected on any level.

As he drained the liquid from his glass, his mind turned to the first night they were alone together in the loft. After inspecting the cabinet work McCoy had done in time she'd been away, she marveled at the efforts he'd made to tidy the place. When he presented her with Cohen's bag of crochet supplies, he thought for a moment she was going to let her guard down and open up. But, after a long thoughtful moment, she wiped the tears from her eyes and spent the next half hour telling McCoy stories about the ill fated projects she'd attempted when Cohen taught her the craft as a diversion from the heavy drinking she started shortly after the 'death' of her husband.

While McCoy prepared a simple meal of homemade stew and freshly baked bread, Malinowski had taken a leisurely bath. When he called her to the table, she opened the bathroom door shortly afterwards. Whne he looked across the room to where she stood, he knew things were about to go from bad to worse.

Malinowski smiled awkwardly, as she moved across the room to the bistro table. The black satin robe was open and revealed the lacy black nightgown McCoy had given her for her birthday. Any other time he would have reacted with ardor at the sight of his fiancée. That night, it was all he could do to keep from weeping at her hideous attempt at normalcy.

"Brooke, the heat's been acting up again," he said in an attempt to give them both an out."Maybe you'd be more comfortable if I brought you a sweat shirt or you flannel robe?"

"Nice try, but the heat goes on the fritz at your place, not here. Listen, Jack. I realize I'm not exactly looking my best these days," she said as she looked away and pulled the thin robe over her torso."I'm sorry. Obviously black and blue doesn't turn you on."

McCoy set the two bowls he'd been carrying down on the table and carefully pulled her into an embrace.

"Don't do this, Brooke," he whispered as he began to stroke her head."It's too soon. You don't have to prove anything. I'm grateful you're alive. The rest…the rest will come in time... you know that."

"What I know is I want my life back," she said as she looked up at him with eyes that were pleading."All of it. I want to sleep through the night without a sedative. I want to stop jumping out of my skin every time I hear footsteps. But most of all, I want to wash away every trace …every memory …of what those bastards did to me."

McCoy could hear the desperation in her voice before she pressed her lips to his. It felt wrong, but he feared pulling away would be seen as a form of rejection. McCoy had met enough kidnap victims to have a good idea of was in store for Malinowski, as well as himself. Dramatic mood swings, sudden irrational fears, panic attacks would all be par for the course. Throwing sexual assault into the mix, he'd assumed the last thing his lover would want was to be touched, at least until she'd had a chance to come to terms with her ordeal.

"Let's sit down before the stew gets cold," he said, giving her another quick kiss before pulling out her chair."I remember how much I looked forward to real food after my last stay in the hospital."

Instead of pressing him or even giving him some verbal shot about skirting the issue, Malinowski quietly took a seat across from him and let the subject drop.

"I was lucky," she said as she picked up her spoon."I had Andy smuggle in contraband from_ Emilio's_ a few times. But, I will admit, there's nothing quite like your stew."

And so the conversation had gone. Thru dinner and for many hours afterwards, they talked about everything except, the things that needed to be said. When both of them became too weary to avoid it any longer, they prepared for bed.

When McCoy came out of the bathroom, Malinowski was waiting for him under the covers. She waited until the figure clad in a tee shirt and briefs was beside her before setting her needle and yarn on the night table.

She caught McCoy's smile as he glanced at the yarn and smiled for the first time since before dinner.

"How could I make your cap color other than grey," she joked, before running her fingers through the comma of grey dripping below his eyes.

McCoy caught the hand and brought it to his lips.

"What can I say? I like grey."

"And I like you, Jack. Very much," she said as she slipped her hand out of his and began tracing small circles in around his nipples through the thin material."I can't tell you how much I missed this. Us. Alone at the end of the day. In our bed."

"Without you in it, it was just a bed," he said softly as he carefully pulled her to him, "A very big, very cold, very lonely bed."

He felt a sense of heady delight as his senses went on overload. His eyes closed as he took in the smell of her freshly washed hair, the sound of her voice saying she loved him, and warmth of her body as she wrapped herself around him. He knew he was sending the wrong signals. He knew in spite of his immediate euphoria, what he really wanted…no needed …to do, was hold her and thank God that he had the chance to do just that.

"I missed you too my love," she whispered as a hand moved from his chest and over his thigh."I thought I'd never see you again."

"Brooke," he started as he made a belated attempt to stop her hand from moving between his legs."Brooke, I'm sorry…"

The moment he looked in her eyes he knew his response…or lack thereof… had had a devastating effect on his lover.

"Don't be," she whispered, her voice thick with hurt."Not your fault."

"It's not a matter of fault," he said urgently as he ran a hand over the damp bruises on her cheeks.

"Damn it Jack, I didn't come home to be lied to," she snapped as she drew the covers closer.

"Brooke, this isn't the first time..."

"Oh my God…this isn't about fatigue or a migraine or even..."

"It's about not wanting to hurt you;" he said with exasperation, that he immediately regretted."Brooke. You've just been traumatized in the most intimate way possible. Not only is it too soon for you to physically..."

Before he could finish McCoy was holding his cheek, the sound her hand whiping across his face, still echoing in his ears.

"Damn you Jack," she shouted as she leaped out of bed threw on the discarded robe."I don't need your protection. I didn't ask you to start thinking for me and I sure as _hell_ didn't ask you to let a _fucking felon_ take a walk for me! I didn't ask you to intimidate Stan Webber into violating attorney client privilege! How many times did I tell you to do what you had to do on that god damned video…"

Between the slap and the unexpected tirade, McCoy was stunned.

"Brooke, I..."

"How many times, Jack," she demanded,as her emotional dam continued it's unyielding burst. "Three, four? Every time, praying one of those bastards didn't grow a brain cell and figure out what I was_ really_ trying to tell you! I thought YOU had enough smarts to know, I'd rather die than have you let criminals run the streets because of me!"

"I was buying you time," he shouted back as he stood and reached for the pair of jeans that lay nearby."I knew what you wanted…what you thought. You really thought I'd just stand ack and let them kill you? How the hell could you think you meant so little to me? What would you have me do..."

"What we _all_ do when some thug tries to blackmail the system," she shrieked."You're supposed to face them down and tell them to go to hell. That's what you did when you sent Rostov back to Russia. That's what I wanted you to do …I _begged _you to do in that tape. That's what I begged you to do tonight!"

McCoy's head was spinning. With so much thrown at him, he wasn't sure how to begin defending himself. Feeling more like he was doing battle with Randall Dworkin in a courtroom, than trying to salvage what was left of his fiancées homecoming, he threw up his hands in frustration.

"I'm not going to apologize for not giving up on you, even if you were prepared to give up on yourself," he bellowed back, a defiant scowl on his face as he unflinchingly met her furious glare."You want to talk about whose lacking in smarts? Do you really think don't know self inflicted injuries when I see them? "

McCoy's pay back was as good as if he'd actually struck her.

"Bastard," she whispered as her hand flew to her mouth.

"Brooke –"he began hoarsely, immediately regretting his words."I know…What you did..."

"You know _nothing_," she said despondently, as she opened the bathroom door."Just go back to bed."

McCoy watched as the bathroom door closed. Even as he sat on the edge of the bed, he knew he wouldn't see her until morning. Weary as he was, it wasn't the lateness of the hour that kept him from going to the door and trying to coax his fiancée to come back to bed. What kept him sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, was the knowledge he'd failed her. He'd failed her not only morally, but as a man. As the man she looked to for help in ending the nightmare, McCoy knew was far from over.


	22. It's Only Soup

By the time they left _Clancy's,_ neither McCoy nor Malinowski, was in the mood to fight the Friday night date crowd for a dinner out. As the town car moved away from the curb, the pair exchanged suggestions for dinner.

"Pizza from _Dante's_," Malinowski suggested.

"Connie brought me back a slice for lunch today. Moo Shoo from _Wang's_," McCoy countered.

"For the third time in a week? I don't think so. Usually when you do pizza you want something light for dinner. Maybe, soup?"

McCoy considered her suggestion and slowly nodded in agreement.

"Soup works for me, but if we get it from a restaurant, we might as well stay and eat there."

Malinowski shot a look at a passing street sign and abruptly told the driver to turn right. McCoy recognized the bodega coming up on the corner and started to protest.

"Brooke this isn't a good idea. Max..."

"Pull up at the corner Max," she interjected quickly."Jack, relax. I can handle it."

McCoy sighed heavily as the car slowed when the sign that read: _Lupe's_ came into view.

"You know we're having Mexican tomorrow when we go out to Queen's," he reminded her in a futile attempt to derail her plans.

Malinowski shrugged her shoulders, as she opened the door.

"There's no such thing as too much Mexican food. Besides, this is just soup."

McCoy bit his lip and followed her into the small market that was just two blocks from the building Malinowski had been held in. It was the first time they had been anywhere near McCoy's apartment building since the kidnapping and while Malinowski seemed sure she could handle the experience, McCoy's comfort level was being tested.

By the time he caught up with his fiancée, she was already chatting with one the owners daughter. McCoy watched uncomfortably as she placed a double order of the chicken soup and flour tortillas, certain of what her next words would be.

"Hey Jack," she said brightly."You never did tell me how Anita Van Buren became an expert on Mexican cuisine."

"Debra Curtis. The wife of one of Van Buren's detectives," McCoy explained, grateful for the temporary reprieve from a request he was sure would be soon to follow. "She swapped recipes with Van Buren for years."

"Well as much as I love it, I'm the first to admit, Mexican food is not my specialty. But I do think Anita will be impressed with that Key Lime pie I made for dessert."

"I'll admit, you make a wicked pie. I guess those years you spent with Sam have some benefits," he said as he stepped back to avoid the playful smack he knew would come.

"Very funny," she said as handed McCoy the take out bag."You know, I'll bet you haven't checked your mail this week. Maybe we should go to your place and eat the soup before it gets cold."

There is was.

McCoy swore silently as his unspoken fear was realized.

As a prosecutor who had read more than his share of psych reports, McCoy knew many victims found it therapeutic to walk through the events of their kidnapping. Visiting places connected with their abductions helped some victims to move forward in their recovery.

The problem for McCoy was twofold: First, it had even been a month since the kidnapping and he feared a visit without the benefit of someone like Liz Olivett to walk her through it, would do more harm than good. The second, and more pressing issue on the DA's mind, was the guilt he felt every time he walked into the building that had acted as a prison for the woman he loved.

As he prepared to list the reasons why a trip to his place was out of the question, he saw the disappointment already in her eyes and knew he couldn't turn her request down. He took her free hand and gave her a broad smile.

"Lead the way, counselor."

The moment the car pulled up in front of the modest brownstone, Malinowski could feel her pulse start to race. She took a deep breath and tried to hide the panic she felt from the man that held the car door open for her. She knew McCoy would use the first sign she was falling apart, to justify a speedy departure.

She could hardly blame him. She could feel his guilt; guilt for not only for her kidnapping but for not finding her sooner. The guilt, the shame, the inability to forgive himself for things Malinowski knew had been out of his control, just made the feeling of isolation she felt even more unbearable.

She had been out of the hospital almost three weeks and they still hadn't made love. That knowledge alone was killing her. After her outburst the first night she'd been home from the hospital the couple had made the expected apologies to one another and begun the subtle process of building emotional walls. McCoy spent more time at the office and Malinowski crocheted caps and scarves until her fingers were raw. The renovation of the loft was put on hold as evenings with friends and colleagues helped to keep their time alone at a minimum.

When they were alone more often than not, the conversation was superficial, although the affection between them was genuine albeit awkward at times.

After what Malinowski perceived as throwing herself at her lover, only to find him not merely unwilling but unable to make love to her, she hadn't been able to bring herself to initiate sex again. Although she could feel McCoy's love and often his passion for her, whenever they embraced or kissed, neither of the two seemed to be able to bridge the gap between them.

As she walked through the lobby door, Malinowski knew the real reason she'd insisted on returning to the scene of the crime. She knew until she found away to dispel her own demons, she had no hope of helping the man loved so completely, find his way back from his own demons.

McCoy followed her into the elevator and stood motionless. When Malinowski cocked her head towards the floor buttons he raised an eyebrow.

"You tell me Brooke. Which comes first? My place or the basement?"


	23. It's About Winning

As McCoy held the yellow crime scene tape out of the way, Malinowski turned and took his hand.

"You know, I can do this alone Jack," she said softly."Having the DA disturb a crime scene..."

McCoy gave her hand a squeeze as he stepped in the room and leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"You were down here alone too long to start with, love. Besides, the CSU team has sent everything to the feds and they've forwarded copies to the Canadians. You know the tape is just a formality until someone gets a verdict."

He took the bag of take out from her and he noticed her trembling become more pronounced. Malinowski looked around the room she had learned was part of a set of servant quarters that had been sectioned off when the old boiler and laundry rooms had been remodeled.

As she slowly walked around the room, her mind focused on the single piece of furniture in the room, now covered with plastic. She could hear their voices, see the camera, remember their hands…

"Brooke?"

Malinowski instinctively pushed McCoy away when he placed and hand on her arm. McCoy could see the look of terror evaporate into a look of shame and he shook his head.

"It's all right," he said stepping back.

She nodded and glanced over his shoulder at the open door, reminding herself she was there because she chose to be. She could leave when she chose to leave…

"Give me the soup," she said as she lowered herself to the floor.

McCoy bit back his reservations and joined her on cold tile. He knew from the lab reports, the container of soup that had been found, had traces of drugs in it. The kind of drugs that would not only disorient a person, but would raise their libido and lessen their inhibitions.

"You don't have to do this," he as he fought the urge to wrap his arms around her.

"Neither do you," she said as a shaky hand held out one of the two steaming containers.

McCoy gave her a look before he realized what he'd done and took the container. They both knew how wrong she was. As much as being in that room, that building, made him want to bolt, McCoy wasn't about to make this moment about himself or his feelings. Yet he knew part of what was going on in that room was about control and part of him resented it.

The pair ate in silence. As she brought the spoon to her lips, Malinowski found herself comparing the soup to the soup her captor brought her. She tried to taste a difference…to see if there was something she missed that day when Ivan sat with her. That day he touched her…

After several minutes, she abruptly stood and moved towards the bathroom. McCoy watched, unsure whether to follow.

When she got to the archway she reached out to steady herself. Malinowski stood, for what seemed like an eternity to McCoy, gazing at the shower. Her eyes fell on the faint traces of blood on the lower half of the back wall. Her thoughts fjocused on the solution that seemed so logical at the time…

"It wasn't about giving up," she said at last."The truth is, it was about just the opposite…as well as my own arrogance."

McCoy knew immediately she what she was referring to and why.

"I had no right to judge you. When I said your were prepared to give up..."

"You weren't trying to hurt me," she said knowingly."But you were wrong. It was about not letting them win. Not letting them use me to hurt you, to get what they wanted…"

"You worry too much about everyone but yourself," he said he stood."You were trying to survive..."

"Jack," she said, urgently taking his hands in hers."Put your misplaced guilt a side and listen to what I'm trying to tell you. I didn't want to give up or die...but I knew where things were headed. I wanted control. I wanted to control how and when and where. Jack, it was about losing the battle, but winning the war."

"By taking your own life?"

Malinowski sighed deeply as she slowly nodded. She could see the confusion in his eyes and she knew the source only too well.

"Not as lapsed as you thought, are you Jack, "she asked with a sad smile."I'm familiar with the term 'mortal sin' too. When I left the church, it took years before my own brother would give me the time of day."

McCoy started to protest and found himself chocking on his own words. As much as he didn't want to admit the influence years of catechism, mass, and confession still had on McCoy 's private moral code, he knew how strong that influence was. Malinowski could see the internal conflict and her smile grew wider.

"Can't tell me I'm wrong, can you counselor? It's a big leap to take. Divorce, fornication, even abortion…those are all much easier to rationalize than thumbing your nose at 'thou shalt not kill' aren't they, Jack?"

"I knew you'd resigned yourself…that you wanted me to think like a prosecutor…no special privileges. I thought that's why you tried ..."

"Jack, I knew the more you gave, the more they'd want. We both know where it would have ended if Logan hadn't come through that door. It was never about me doubting you. You have to believe that."

McCoy turned away, bringing a hand to his eyes.

"No," she said as she stubbornly moved back into his line of sight."You don't get to play martyr; neither of us do. If you can't live with my less than perfect judgment…if you want look down that perfectly chiseled nose of yours with moral contempt because I was arrogant enough to think I could use death to cheat those sons of bitches out of..."

"I played God more times than I can count as a prosecutor," he said with just as much passion."I was more than responsible for Mickey Scott's conviction and execution. You did what you asked me to do. You did what you had to do and who am I to say it wasn't the right choice to make?"

Malinowski ran a hand loving over his cheek and through the locks of grey, as she searched his eyes.

"Then don't let them win, Jack. Don't let those bastards take away what we had. Kiss me. Kiss me like I'm still the woman you fell in love with, the woman you not only wanted to marry, but the woman you wanted in every way."


	24. When the Time is Right

Malinowski had always enjoyed weaving in and out of traffic on McCoy's BMW. The traffic was especially light that Saturday afternoon, so the ride to Queens was especially swift. As McCoy's merged onto the expressway, she tightened her grip on the driver. The feel of her hands and body against McCoy made her mind turn to the events of the previous evening.

When they had returned from the brownstone the hour was late and the loft was dark. McCoy helped her remove her suit jacket, letting his hands run slowly over her back and shoulders, before dropping the jacket beside his, on the sofa. The long awaited kiss had stirred emotions in both of them that the pecks and affectionate embraces had only hinted at, since Malinowski's return from the hospital.

Although most of the outward signs of her captivity had healed, Malinowski deliberately turned on only the small tiffany lamp that sat on the dresser, across from thier bed. The lamp cast the dimmest light possible. She could hear the faint sounds of the city that never sleeps, as well as the footsteps, that came up behind her.

_I can do this,_ she told herself as McCoy wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

She turned to face him. She smiled up at him and loosened his tie before dropping it beside the lamp. Next, her hands fell on his chest. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her fingers from shaking, as she tried to unbutton the white dress shirt. Unable to do both, she finally gave up. Her eyes left his patient gaze and she focused her eyes on her unsteady hands.

As she completed her task McCoy, lifted her chin and brought their lips together. He felt her hands, cool and damp, run up his chest and rest at the back of his neck as she parted her lips. Through murmured endearments and the seductive dance through discarded clothing, everything McCoy knew about his lover told him she wasn't ready for this. No matter how much she thought she needed to make love that night, McCoy wasn't going to allow her to unconsciously set herself up for more pain.

A tiny smile of victory played on her lips as Malinowski's eyes feasted on her lovers now naked body. McCoy smiled back and reached out to give his lover the gentlest of caresses. The moment his hand fell on her breast, he knew what he had to do.

As Malinowski silently cursed herself for the flinch she knew hadn't been able to hide, McCoy took her hand to led her to the bed.

"Jack, I can do this," she said, immediately aware of her misstep. "I _want _to do this. I love you and I want-"

"I know," he whispered as he lay down beside her."I want you, too. I want you as much as I did the first time we shared a bed."

Malinowski turned his words over in her mind before nodding in understanding. The first time they had 'shared a bed'…not 'made love'…had been the night McCoy had viewed the recently discovered body of his former lover and assistant, Diana Hawthorne.

Running her fingers lovingly over McCoy's abdomen, she reached for him, making a final attempt to detour the evening from it's now obvious destination.

"I wanted you that night, too," she replied as she heard McCoy's sudden sharp intake of breath.

Her fingers on his shaft momentarily diverted his attention from noble thoughts of patience and consideration, to the more immediate pleasure his body felt after he'd denied himself for so many weeks.

"But," he said as he reluctantly took her hand in is."The time wasn't right. The time wasn't right that night, but eventually the right time came, remember?"

Malinowski fought not to let tears of disappointment and frustration fall from her eyes. She started to turn away in defeat, as she had so many nights since returning from the hospital. McCoy's sudden embrace stopped her. He held her close, but not tightly, as he attempted to silently comfort her.

"Do you know I fell in love with you that night," he asked at last.

Malinowski's startled eyes met his as he nodded in conformation.

"It's the truth. There aren't many women that think my scrambled eggs are gourmet cuisine," he said with a wily smile."I knew your lack of taste was a sign I'd found the right woman at last."

"It was after midnight," she reminded him with a chuckle, "and I hadn't had dinner and we had just come from the morgue."

"Details. Insignificant details," he said as he wrapped the sheet around them."The point is, you were in my bed and I didn't behave like an animal and ravage you."

"I was in your guest bed and you were sick as a dog and you'd already paid the price of getting fresh with me," she countered with a grin.

"Just because I was sick as a dog, didn't mean I could have acted like as dog, if I'd wanted to," he responded indifferently."As for the slap, we both know if you'd been serious about putting me off, I'd have been spitting out teeth."

Malinowski giggled inspite of herself. She knew McCoy was right. The reason she'd reacted so violently to his unexpected kiss wasn't a lack of interest or desire. It was the simple fact she'd found herself attracted to the well known prosecutor more than she'd been attracted to any man before or since. Including the husband she thought she'd lost forever. It was an attraction that grew into something deeper the night she'd gone back to McCoy's apartment for a late dinner after missing the last train home.

"I fell in love with you when I woke up in your arms the next morning," she said, suddenly serious."The way you looked at me that morning… the way you were with me the night before… I knew. It scared the hell out of me Jack, but I knew."

McCoy nodded as he reached for her. He could still remember how his body awakened to her touch, her scent, the quiet rhythm of her breathing as she slept beside him for the first time.

Weary and with the last train gone hours before, she had agreed to accept McCoy's invitation to sleep in the guest room. While he'd carried his sleeping visitor into the guest room, he flirted with the idea of bypassing the guest room all together. After moving her out garments and slipping a tee shirt over her, McCoy had found himself mesmerized and unable to leave the beautiful woman he'd spent hours before battling with over a case.

"You'll never know how much I wanted you that night, Brooke," he whispered as looked at her with longing."I wanted you then, as much as I want you now."

"Then have me, my love," she whispered.

"Only when the time is right, love," he said as he wiped a tear from her eyes."When the time is right, everything else will be."


	25. Anita's Home Cookin'

"Tell me again why we're having the DA and his lady over," Don Van Buren said for the third time since getting up that morning."How many times did you come home from work fussing and fuming that Jack McCoy was a hardhead son of..."

"Listen, if I wanted an instant replay of everything I said about Jack McCoy over the last fourteen years, I'd have the kids show me how to use the recorder on my cell phone," Anita countered in a tone her husband knew not to question.

"Come on, Nita," he continued, changing his tactics, as he helped her gather the miscellaneous pariffenailla that had gathered throughout the week on the oak coffee table."I run a hardware store; McCoy's runs the DA's office. What am I going to say to the man all afternoon?"

"You're both father's, you're both Bull's and Bear's fans," she said as she deposited the pile in her arms into the plastic bin in the hall closet.

"The way the Bear's are playing this season, we'll be done in five minutes."

"Well then talk about whatever it is men talk about when their wives and girlfriends are only a room away… tell him about how to make a marriage last longer than five minutes," she shot back impatiently, as she gave the room on last apprising scan, before heading towards the eat in kitchen."The man was about to start a third marriage when his bride was kidnapped. I'm sure Jack would appreciate some advice from a man who got it right on the first try."

Before Don could answer his wife's 'I dare you to top that' look, the couple heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching the drive way. Don gave her a quizzical look as he went to the picture window in the living room and Anita made one a quick straighten the afghan on the living room sofa.

"_That's_ him," a stunned Don asked as he stared at the couple walking towards the house."The guy in the old coat and dunce cap? _That's_ McCoy?"

Anita shot her husband a dagger look as the doorbell rang.

"His daughter gave him the coat and his girlfriend made that cap. So if I were you, I'd play fashion diva later," she hissed before opening the front door and giving McCoy a warm smile."Jack, I hope you two didn't have any trouble finding the house?"

McCoy started to reply when he glanced politely his host and suddenly did a double take. Both women looked at McCoy expectantly, just a Don Van Buren spoke up.

"You're him, "Don said giving McCoy a friendly slap on the back.""You're the guy?"

"You're _Don_," McCoy replied eagerly extending a hand. "The Don, of Don's Hardware?"

"Man, I see you in the store on 28th and Broadway every time I go in there to check inventory," Don Van Buren said, as he shook the offered hand and turned to his wife."Nita, this guy's one of my best customers. Over the last six months he's bought enough merchandise to pay for that pool we want to put in next summer."

"Lieutenant, you told me your husband was in the hardware business, but you didn't tell me he was _'The Don',_" McCoy said accusingly, as if being 'The Don' was a kin to being Frank Sinatra.

The two women exchanged amused looks as Anita motioned for them to come into the living room.

"Well gee Jack, now that you know I'm married to '_The Don',_ maybe you'll back off the next time you think one of my detectives has done a sloppy interrogation," she deadpanned.

"By the same token," Malinowski added with wink."now that Don knows his big customer is the DA, maybe he'll cut us a deal when we start renovating again and we redo the kitchen counters?"

Don gave Malinowski's shoulder a friendly squeeze that she inadvertantly made her jump, before replying.

"For the 'Fedora Guy'? Well, I guess now I'll have to change that to Pino..." Don began pointing at the cap on McCoy's head, before Anita shot him a warning look that made him pause."Honey, I'll make you two an offer even John Gotti couldn't refuse."

"The 'Fedora Guy'," Anita repeated. "Honey, I know you're not one of my detectives, but didn't you ever look at the name on the credit card when your best customer made a purchase?"

"Cash customer," both men said at once.

"Jack," Malinowski said with real concern."The last purchase was over $6000.00, you know, when we started the kitchen cabinets. You walked around Manhattan with that kind of cash? What were you thinking?"

"My fault," Don interjected apologetically."Cash customers get an automatic 10 discount."

"Which is why they call him '_The Don'_ of hardware," McCoy added with a satisfied smirk that made everyone burst into laughter.

"Listen," Anita said to Malinowski, once the usual formalities were completed."Since 'The Fedora Guy' and 'The Don' seem to want to catch up on the cost of dry wall, maybe this is a good time for us to head into the kitchen."

Malinowski nodded as she handed Anita the round Tupperware container she had been holding.

"I know it's not a Mexican dessert, but Jack tells me your boys have been known to enjoy a slice of key lime pie, on occasion."

Anita took the container and smiled politely as she thought about the blandness of the tamale pie she'd sampled weeks before. As if reading her mind, Malinowski touched her sleeve and leaned towards Anita's ear.

"I know what you're thinking. Yes it's homemade, but I swear I used a family recipe from Georgia that calls for fresh squeezed lime juice and plenty of zest. Bland, this isn't."

Anita smiled back as they entered the kitchen decorated in blue gingham. Malinowski smiled at the hand made soap dish and snoop rest she assumed had been made by Anita's sons.

"Jack didn't tell me you had family down south," Anita replied as she handed Malinowski an apron.

While Malinowski discussed the extensive exposure eight out of the thirteen years she'd been married to Sam Prescott had given her to southern cuisine, the pair began peeling and dicing the vegetables required for the meal they were about to prepare.

Anita listened, feeling almost ashamed about her secondary motives for reminding McCoy of her standing invitation. During the hand full of exchanges the two women had prior to this one...the first during the Samantha Weaver mess, then next when ADA Jake Cohen had been shot...Anita had found Brooke Malinowski Prescott to be sharp both in wit and mind.

While she hadn't formed a solid opinion, she'd felt a good vibe regarding the woman. The ADA wasn't pretentious or high handed and based on the rumor mill, the woman seemed to hold her own with the current DA. When McCoy's engagement became public knowledge Anita had believed the couple had a fighting chance for happiness. A belief that had grown stronger after a night holding Jack McCoy's hand, while his fiancée was held captive.

McCoy's devotion had been apparent that night, which was what made the scene Anita had walked in on that much harder to take.

As Malinowski talked about her marriage, Anita noticed the affection in her words and description of Sam Prescott. There was no bitterness, no petty sniping…no sophisticated banter about trying to stick it to him in their settlement. None of things Anita had grown accustomed to hearing whenever a friend or colleague's marriage fell by the way side.

_She seems like good people_, Anita told herself as she pulled her glasses out of her sweater pocket and began reading the recipes next step out loud.

"...and next we need to measure the dry ingredients," Anita said as she reached across the counter for the measuring cups and bowls.

"You know Anita, this is a great kitchen," Malinowski said as picked up a bowl and measuring cup."Would you mind telling me who did the design work for you?"

"Don's got a gal at the 28th street store that is amazing," the other said woman replied."If you two think you're ready to see her, I can have her give you a call Monday," Anita said as she took the cup in Malinowski's trembling hand, and gave the other womans hand a squeeze."Brooke, I know I'm just a friend of Jack's to you, but I've worked a lot of kidnappings. Seen a lot of victims that survived, a lot that didn't. How are you doing?"

Malinowski squeezed the hand that held hers. She had wondered how long it would take a veteran cop to pick up on the signs.

_Hell, Anita probably nailed me at the door when Don touched me_…she reminded herself.

"Good days, bad days," she said as lightly as she could."I stop playing internet law and go back to the office Monday. Routine will be good…you know the drill."

"Sure do," Anita said with a sigh."Jack tells me it looks like the Canadians will get the first bite of the apple, you okay with that?"

Malinowski shrugged, as she reached for the box of cornmeal that Anita politely, but firmly took from her hands and replaced with a jar of chili powder.

"Sorry Brooke, the excessive corn meal is what got you sentenced to an afternoon with me," Anita said with a grin."So, are you good with going back to the Falls for trial?"

Malinowski nodded.

"Got to face going back there sometime. I mean, we were supposed to get…"Malinowski paused; realizing neither herself or McCoy had yet to discuss the ill fated wedding.

Staring at her bare ring finger, she blinked hard and turned her back to the other woman.

"Listen Anita, what's another trip to the Falls? If it weren't for Mike Logan and the rest of your people charging in to save the day, the only trip I'd be making would be to the morgue."

"Yeah. About that, Brooke," Anita began uncomfortably."I was the first CO on the scene that day at Jack's building…listen…there's no easy way to say this so I'm just going to say it: I saw you in Mike's arms when I went down to secure the scene. I had to almost tie Jack down on top of a squad car to keep him from going in with me. If I hadn't been there, it would have been Jack that saw what happened between the two of you."

Anita could see the confusion in the other woman's face as Malinowski looked back at her with puzzlement.

Anita knew if she prompted the other woman and Malinowski wanted to, she could end Logan's career with a sexual misconduct complaint and Anita would have no choice but to back her up.

As much as she wanted to smack Logan herself, the two weeks unpaid suspension he'd stubbornly taken for insubordination when he failed to answer her when she confronted him about his actions that day, was as far as Anita wanted to punish Logan professionally.

"Anita, what are you asking me, really," Malinowski said at last.

Setting down the box, Anita gave her guest the same soulful look she used when she wanted a suspect to know the time for games was over.

"I know Mike Logan doesn't always think before he acts, but I can't believe he'd force himself on a victim of any crime' much less a sexual assault victim whose engaged to Jack McCoy ," Anita sighed, shaking her head."Girl, I know that man is as far as you can get from being a saint, but I also know how much he cares about you. You can tell me to mind my own business and I'll say no more, but Brooke, I have to ask: What is goin' on between you and Mike?"

Malinowski shook her head as the events of that day flew through her mind…the soup…the rape…her determination to…

"Anita, I was trying to kill myself when I heard Mike," Malinowski said as nervously ran a hand through her hair."I'd just been drugged…. and raped. I was so stunned when I heard him…first, I didn't think he was alive after they threw him in. Then he opened his eyes and he called Green…"

Anita watched as Malinowski paused, wiping her eyes and trying to collect her thoughts. From what she was seeing, Anita suspected it was the first time Malinowski had tried to talked about the sequence of events, other than during her statement to Green or in a controlled environment like Olivett's office.

"Go on Brooke, what happened after Mike called Ed?"

"I was hurt and Mike tried to help me," she said more to herself than Van Buren."He covered me…put the blanket around me. After he got the door open, I couldn't walk, or maybe I just…I don't know. I was so relieved and so tired…"

As she thought about being in Logan's arms…her words… she met Van Buren's steady gaze and started shaking her head…

_"I think someone else was supp__osed carry me over a threshold."_

_"Yeah," Loga__n replied.__"Ed tells me you two went to the falls to tie the knot. Gotta tell ya Brooke, if this isn't a sign McCoy isn't the right guy for you, I don't know what is."_

_"You're just jealous because I didn't get a chance to invite you," she retorted as she fought to keep her eyes focused."You missed out on kissing the bride. Not that anyone would want to kiss this face now."_

_"I wouldn't bet on that, counselor," he said as his lips carefully met her__s…_

"It's not what you think, Anita…God that sounds like crap but it's not," she said pleadingly."Mike's a friend and nothing more. I started talking about the wedding…kissing the bride…stupid, stupid incoherent babble…"

"Brooke, Mike's been a cop a longtime. Long enough to know better, no matter what you..."

"Anita, he kissed me. Once. It wasn't…he wasn't coming onto me…God I looked like something the dog dug up … how can you think...,"she threw her hands up, frustrated at her own inability to articulate her thoughts."Oh God, you saw that? You were his commanding officer? What did you do?"

"Two weeks unpaid leave," she said without apology."It's in his file as insubordination, nothing more. I made sure the paperwork didn't get put into the case file. Jack has no idea what happened and I have no plans to tell him."


	26. Ya Gotta Have Friends

As the train lurched forward to start its trek to Long Island, Malinowski's stomach lurched as well. She told herself the first trip would be the hardest, as the walls of the train seemed to close in around her. Grudgingly, she pulled the bottle of anti-anxiety medicine from the pocket of her suit jacket and washed a pill down with the remains of her mocha.

She'd deliberately chosen a seat near the bathroom, just in case the forty minutes train ride proved to be too much of a challenge to her gastrointestinal system. After three weeks remaining

Only Liz Olivett knew how taxing the trips away from the loft had been and thankfully she was bound by doctor/ patient prevailage.

While the outing to the Van Burens' had been an unexpected pleasure, regardless of the unexpected heart to heart Malinowski and Anita Van Buren had about Mike Logan, Malinowski knew the main reason she'd survived it was McCoy's presence. Being alone on the train gave her too much time to think…to remember…

Pushing the images of Ivan and Demtri as far to the back of her mind as she could, she turned her thoughts to her Sunday morning walk through Central Park. A walk she'd taken remembering how Mike Logan had once mentioned his Sunday morning ritual of reading the Sunday Times over eggs Benedict at Tavern on the Green before the after church crowd arrived…

When she walked into the restaurant only a few patrons, all dressed in running attire, were in the dining room. At the window facing the lake sat a single soul, face concealed by the_ Times_ sports section.

"Mike?"

When he looked up from the paper, Logan removed his reading glasses and grinned as he gave Malinowski the once over.

"Well look at you, counselor. Looks like hospital food agrees with you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good. Going back to work Monday. Listen, are you meeting someone or can I sit for a second?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who's spoken for. You can sit whether or not I'm meeting anyone, which shocking as it may seem, I am not. Which reminds me, where's your lesser half?"

"I told Jack I needed to see you. Alone."

Logan's eyes widened as the waiter came towards the table. After bringing a second glass of water and refilling Logan's coffee cup the uniformed young man disappeared.

"I'm sure that news went over well with McCoy," Logan commented dryly.

"Right now, the last thing Jack is going to do, is turn cave man on me," she shot back bluntly."I told him I hadn't had a chance to thank you since I came home from the hospital, which is true. I talked to Ed Green the first day I got home and he told me you were unavailable. He just didn't tell me you were unavailable because you kissed me and got yourself suspended."

"Damn," Logan said softly."Who told you?"

"Does it matter? What matters is you saved my life and got kicked in the teeth for your trouble."

"Actually, I kind of kicked myself in the teeth," Logan admitted, with equal candor."I basically told my CO to go to hell and I got nailed. The kiss thing..."

"I don't know who I'm madder at Mike: Myself for being too weak to put the brakes on this flirting with destiny crap I've been doing with you or at you, for using me to play another round of Russian Roulette with your career-"

"Me. Definitely, me."

"What," she said shaking her head.

"You're madder at me," he said confidently."Hands down. No contest."

"Stop screwing around and be serious," she snapped.

"Brooke, come on. You were high as a kite and in shock. I was a jerk. You could have just told me that over the phone and saved yourself the hassle," he said knowingly."You're alive, you're safe and you're going to become Mrs. DA. Why are you wasting a beautiful Sunday morning tying yourself up in knots over a guy like me?"

Malinowski rolled her eyes as she continued to shake her head in amazement.

"A guy like you, huh? Not only are you the guy that saved my life, you're a guy I really do think of as a friend. A good one, at that. "

"You know how cold that 'let's be friends' thing is, right?"

Malinowski gave him a sideways look and surprised them both by leaning closer to run a thoughtful hand over his cheek.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you Logan?"

"Would you respect me in the morning if I did," he shot back confidently.

"It_ is_ morning, Logan," she said abruptly standing." Fine. If that's the way you want... just remember... you asked for this."

Logan braced himself for the expected glass of water to be thrown or a slap across his face, well aware he was being reckless and flippant.

He knew the kiss had been a mistake the second he did it. Not only because Van Buren had been standing in the door way, but because he'd crossed a very brightly painted line.

It had been an impulsive gesture to not only express his own relief and pleasure at knowing Malinowski was safe, but to put to rest the desire he'd had for months. Now he knew it was a gesture that would end a potentially friendship, he had quickly come to value.

"God Mike, do you know what a pain in the ass you are?"

Before he could answer, Logan found himself unable to respond. Malinowski unexpectedly leaned over him and kissed him with passion that dumbfounded the detectiuve. Logan instictively pulled back; almost send them both to the floor.

"Brooke, what the hell was that," he sputtered as he continued to hold her at arm's length.

"That my _friend,_was the big kiss off," she said arrogantly."You know you're as big a flirt as I am, Logan. Which makes for a very dangerous combination...both of us pushing just a little bit further... trying to see how far the other will let things go. Well now we know how far this goes, and how far this_ doesn't_ go, don't we?"

"I know you're nuts," he said with a smirk."Does that count?"

"Nuts about Jack McCoy. Although, you're the one driving me crazy at the moment," she countered, as she reached for her bag."Mike, we were both curious. Now we know. If you still want to be friends, friends we will be. But lovers? Not in this lifetime. Deal?"

Logan squeezed her hand and grinned knowingly back at her.

"Deal. Now if only…"

Malinowski waited.

"If only," Logan continued with a wink," that cute brunette in Major Felonies would cut a deal the way you just did with me. _Then_ I'd be a happy guy."

Malinowski found herself surprised by the sound of her own soft chuckle.

_I actually felt like myself for more than five seconds_, she mused as the train slowed as the Islip station came into view. _Now if I can just keep it together long enough to fool Jake, I'll have it made in the shade._


	27. From Russia, With Love

Fifteen minutes later, Brooke Malinowski stood in the door way of what used to be her office, stunned. Jake Cohen looked up from behind what used to be Malinowski's desk and gave her a curt nod.

"Lost are, we?"

Malinowski looked back at the front of the open door that now held the words: Senior ADA Jacob A. Cohen on it and to her at her friend and colleague for an explanation.

"Apparently so. Don't get me wrong, Jake. Your promotion is long overdue but if Michael wants to give me the sack, he could have done it over the phone and saved me the trip in from Manhattan. By the way, congratulations, partner.You know, you could have told me during one of our five _zillion_ phone calls over the last three weeks."

Cohen shrugged, determined not to give anything away.

"Listen, I have to be in court in twenty minutes. If you decide to stick around, you can buy me lunch and I'll bring you up to speed."

"Fine," she said with equal gruffness."If it's not too much trouble, maybe you could tell me where my personal items ended up when you cleared my stuff out of here?"

"Michael will tell you himself, he wants to see you ASAP."

"Great," she said turning on her heel.

Just as Malinowski's arm moved back to slam what used to be her door, Cohen cleared his throat and waited for her to look back over her shoulder.

"Oh, and Brooke? When I was in Manhattan last week, I saw Jack hailing a cab. Nice work,"Cohen said with a smirk."Every public official should have a dunce cap."

"Your fault as always, Cohen," she said without missing beat, before turning on her heel."_You're_ the one that taught me how to crochet, in the first place."

As she walked down the corridor she'd walked down almost everyday for nearly twenty years, she noticed something else had changed, besides the name on her office door. The door across the hall from the DA no longer bore the name 'Clint Renard'. Malinowski paused in front the door.

She jumped back startled, when DA Michael Jackowicz suddenly opened it. The DA for Suffolk County stepped forward to embrace her, then remembering the reason Malinowski had been on a leave of absence, he extended his hand instead.

"What happened to Clint," she asked while they stepped into the office.

Malinowski looked around the office reserved for Jackowski's top prosecutor, noting the neatly piled boxes and the name plate that sat beside the large stack of unopened mail.

"While you were gone Clint's mother passed away," the Santa like man explained, while he motioned for her to join him in taking a seat in front of the desk."He's inherited property in Maine and asked me to recommend him for a position with the states attorney's office up there. Brooke, I know you've got a lot on your plate right now. That's why I didn't want to make the offer over the phone. When Clint and I discussed who should fill his shoes, we were in agreement. The new executive should be the person with not only the most time in the DA's office, but the highest conviction rate. That person is you."

Malinowski sank back in her chair, unsure of how to respond. She knew she looked the picture of competence. It had taken her almost two hours to get the hair and make just right before slipping into her 'power' outfit that consisted of a tailored Donna Karan charcoal suit and silk burgundy shell. She practiced her swift stride out of the train station, so when she walked into her building, she would appear to be her old self.

But she knew it was just a charade

"Michael, you how much I want the job..."

"It would have been yours five years ago," the DA said candidly."But when we all thought Sam had died…well… the point is you're more than qualified. Now, I know you're going through a bad time right now, but remember, the executive position is more administration than trial work in this office. That means, if you find you need some time over the next few months…if you need to take things slow…more often than not you can set your schedule. In fact, Clint's going to be back in town the end of next week to tie up loose end here and he told me he'd stick around if either of us needed him to, while you get settled into the position."

Malinowski nodded, unable to suppress her pleasure at seeing the title: Executive Assistant District Attorney under her name on the shiny new nameplate resting on the desk.

"Michael, "she said after taking a deep breath."I have to be straight with you. Right now, I'm doing my smoke and mirrors routine. I've managed not to fall into the bottle this time, but if something doesn't give….maybe after I testify at the trial. You know I want this, but the office needs someone you can count on. I'm just not sure..."

Jackowski nodded as he stood up and moved towards the seat behind the desk.

"I know how hard that was for you to admit. Not just to me, but to yourself. That's why I want you sitting in this chair. I know you'll put the job before anything else, including your pride. Give yourself the day to go through your mail, to get caught up. Give it some thought and then come see me before you leave tonight," he said as he motioned for her to sit in the chair he had pulled out for her behind the desk."Take your own advice on this one, Brooke: Don't let the bastards win. Use the promotion as a step in taking your life back."

Malinowski watched her superior leave and spent the next several minutes pondering his words before turning her attention to the large stack of mail on the center of the mahogany desk. She smiled when she saw the elegant antique letter opener at the top of the pile.

After setting her briefcase on the desk and pulling out her black rimmed reading glasses, she picked up the thick legal size envelope on the top and read the return address several times before using the opener to carefully slice it open.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Jake Cohen said impatiently,"tell me what was in that envelope from Russia."

Malinowski took a deliberately long swallow of her ice tea before responding.

"You organized my mail," she said fenging surprise."I didn't think the new Senior Assistant District Attorney had time for such mundane tasks..."

"I didn't _say_ I had time, I said I_ did_ it," Cohen shot back, as the waiter set their lunch orders in front of them."I called Stewart over at the 1 8 and had him run it down to the bomb squad, just to be safe. He says it harmless, but I have no idea who 'Nadia Brezin' is. Do you?"

Malinowski nodded while she began to mix the dressing into her Caesar salad.

"She was one of Rostov's victims. Daughter of the man that killed Rostov's brother," Malinowski explained."Apparently Detective Green contacted her for help when I was …when I was gone. Jake she was a barely eighteen when Rostov's men took her."

"She survived it Brooke," Cohen said patting her hand."You did, too."

"She said the same thing," Malinowski said thoughtfully."Apparently, some of the women have formed a support group in Moscow. They meet once a month to check on each other, as well as to socialize. They are amazing. Nadia sent me her email address and asked me to contact her whenever I'm ready."

"It's a good idea, "Cohen said firmly as he set the empty soup bowl a side."She might have some ideas on where this Ivan Janovich is hiding out, as well as some ideas on helping you get on with your life. When do the Canadians think they might need you to testify?"

Malinowski knew it had been a minor miracle that her fork had stayed in her hand when she heard her captor's name. She knew Cohen had seen he hand tremble and was grateful he had chosen not to call her on it.

"I talked to the lead prosecutor yesterday. He asked me to plan on coming up for three to five days at the start of May."

"The start of May? That's only a week and a half from now. Sounds like Canadian justice is swifter than in the US of A."

"We'll see. Enough about that. When do I get to take you out for a_ real_ celebration, Mr. Senior ADA?"

"After you decide whether I get to stay in my new office or whether you want Taz Montez to be our boss."

"Taz?"

"Yeah, she's next in line if you turn Michael down. What are you going to tell Michael?"

Malinowski gave him a wicked grin.

"It took me all of ten minutes to walk across the hall and tell him he had a new EADA, if he still wanted me."

"Well thank God, "Cohen said indignantly."I just got my picture of Harvey Milk centered on the back wall this morning. I've shot you myself if I had to pack up again. Have you called Jack yet?"

"Called and left a message. He meets with his Executive staff every Monday morning. I said to meet me at _Gino's _and to be prepared to celebrate. I'll tell him tonight."


	28. A Blast From the Past

"Jack McCoy! I haven't seen you since I won the White case. Or should I say since you_ lost_ the White case?"

"DNA doesn't lie, people do," McCoy shot back, as the woman with the come hither stare and satisfied smirk, sat down on the stool next to him."The only problem I had Vanessa, was the DNA line blurs when the killer and the accused are members of the same family."

McCoy watched as defense attorney Vanessa Galiano ordered her signature drink; a dirty martini.

"Don't get too comfortable, Vanessa. I'm meeting someone and she should be here any minute, "McCoy continued as he glanced at his watch."Besides, I thought _Gino's_ was beneath you. Didn't you tell me the only Italian food worth eating, was made at home, not in a restaurant?"

"I still stand by that statement, counselor," she responded, her grin deepening."But as you can see, I'm drinking, not eating. As for your dinner date, I thought you were off the market? The courthouse rumor mill says you popped the question. It looks like you managed to find a woman who actually said 'yes'."

"I didn't know you still cared," McCoy shot back, aware of the increased tempo of his heart."For the record, I am and she did."

Galiano raised her glass in a mock salute and she sighed.

"I guess that's what happens when a cleint sends you half way around the world to consult for half a year. You not only lose touch with your friends, you miss out on hearing all of the dish first hand. So tell me Jack, how did this mystery woman get you to agree to tie the noose," she said with a smirk. "I mean, the knot?"

"I was seeing Brooke months before you left town. We ran in to you and Charlie Graham at the Bar Association gala before you left for Japan."

McCoy watched as his old flame's expression changed from playful to perplexed.

"You're marrying _Brooke Prescott_? Jack," she said setting her game face firmly in place, "that means you've been with the same woman for more than a year. What happened? Did the assistants finally start running too fast for you to catch them?"

McCoy ran a hand through his hair, as he looked downward with amusement. Even though his affair with the fiery Galiano had been brief, it had never been dull. McCoy could feel his body reacting to her presence. He tried to tell himself it was due to the surprise of seeing her so unexpectedly.

He knew the events of the past month had begun to take a toll on him. As he traded barbs with the gorgeous defense attorney, he could feel the tension in him decrease as his libido continued to awaken, much to his dismay.

"As I recall, it hasn't been that long since I was able to catch _you_," he heard himself say.

Galiano tilted her head, as she gave him a nod.

"Touché," she said and she reached for his hand.

"What about you," he asked; slipping his hand out of hers to reach for his glass."I find it hard to believe that _Gino's_ would be your first choice to stop off for a drink before going home. When we were together, you favored the bar at _The Carlyle Hotel_."

"_The Carlyle's_ only fun if you plan to go upstairs after drinks," she said suggestively."When we were together, there were a few times I didn't think we'd make it back to court from there, before we ended up with contempt. citation"

McCoy swallowed hard, as his mind flirted with the memories of clothing discarded in a lustfully frenzy … eyeing the bedside clock as they made love in a reckless haze of impatient desire …anxious for release after being on opposite sides of the aisle in court all morning, yet wanting to make every moment they had together count.

Jack McCoy had never begged for anything, from anyone. Ever. But making love with Vanessa Galiano he came close. Very, very close.

Galiano seemed to read his mind. She ran her tongue over her bright red lips as she leaned in and rested her hand on the inside of his thigh, causing him to almost choke on his drink.

"What's wrong Jack," asked with an innocent smile."Did something _go down_ wrong?"

"I'd just forgotten how much you enjoy playing the game," McCoy shot back indifferently, while he could feel the warmth of his reddened cheeks."Careful Vanessa, whoever it is you have on the menu for tonight may not enjoy walking in and seeing that your hands are… well..._aren't_ in plain view."

"Is it really Charlie you're worried about," she said as her fingers began making an invisible pattern of small, feather light circles on the inside of his thigh, her hand slowly moved upward,"or are you worried you're girlfriend will walk in and catch you with your pants down?"

The sexual tension between the pair grew to an almost unbearable level, causing McCoy to shift, uncomfortably.

"Brooke's not just a girlfriend. I'm going to marry her, Vanessa," McCoy said coolly; a twinge of guilt shooting through him.

Guilt stemming from the increasing hardness that was hidden by his buttoned suit jacket. He felt even more shamed given the fact he was using his engagement as a weapon.

It was a very effective weapon, judging by the way Galiano momentarily stared into her drink, the moment McCoy meantioned his upcoming marriage. Even though Galiano had been the one to break things off, McCoy had sensed she had wanted more than he was able to give.

Not even six months out of divorce number two McCoy's fling with the adventurous, as well as voluptuous defense attorney, had set him on fire. Nothing was too risky, too taboo, to experience. Whether it was sky driving when Galiano had dared him or a forbidden hour of passion during recess from cour,t McCoy had relished whatever dare she challenged him to.

Until she dared to hint at wanting what McCoy had sworn he never dare try again… with any woman.

Knowing he'd crossed the line between banter and sadism by throwing his engagement in her face he opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could speak, he found her finger pressed against his lips.

"But you haven't married her _yet_, have you Jack," Galliano whispered before pressing her lips to his.

Instead of pulling away, as he suspected she assumed he would, McCoy waited until her tongue peered out of her mouth, before slipping his between her lips. He knew he was a fool to call her bluff. They were in a public place. They both were expecting their dinner companions to arrive any time. It was reckless. It was dangerous. It was every bit as exciting as they both knew it would be.

"You son of a bitch."

"It takes one to know one," McCoy shot back, as the two lawyers hastily disengaged themselves from one another.

"You know McCoy, it's one thing for a guy like you to play fast and loose with the law, but this? You really are one sorry sack of shit."

"Charlie..."Galiano began, as she put a hand on Graham's shoulder.

"Don't defend him Vanessa," Charlie Graham fumed, as he impatiently shook her hand away."I knew you were an amoral son of a bitch when you threw me in jail without cause during the Jacobs case. The only reason you didn't get disbarred for using the constitution to wipe your ass, was all the bad press my client got for kidnapping that girl..."

"_I'm_ the son of a bitch," McCoy shot back incredulously, "Jacobs not only kidnapped Jenny Clark, he was going to sell her to a _pedophile_!"

"Don't stand there and play holier than thou with me, Jack. You're not the only one with a conscious," Graham retorted."If I'd known were Jenny Clark was, you know I would have told you or Alex Borgia. But throwing opposing counsel in the slammer when you don't get your way is just par for the course, isn't it?"

"I was trying to bring a child home to her mother, not tyring to use my office for personal gain or..." McCoy bellowed.

"Charlie it was years ago, it's time to let it go," Galiano interjected, realizing both men were dangerously close to coming to blows, she stood and positioned herself between them.

"The Jacob case may be old news, just like Jack McCoy pandering to one woman while he beds another..."

"Charlie, "Galiano snapped," you came here to discuss a partnership,_ not_ my personal life."

"Fine," Graham retorted as, he turned his disgusted glare back to the DA."We'll stick with the business of the new DA. Tell me Jack, is there any line you won't cross to get what you want? First you set up a phony deal to get the Clark girl back and now you release the felon of the week to safe your fiancée? Tell me how you never use the power of your office for personal gain..."

"Enough," Galiano snapped, as McCoy tried to step passed her to get to the other man."Charlie, maybe you should check up front and see if they have a table for us."

Graham gave McCoy a final glare before starting towards the reservation desk and McCoy raised an inquisitive brow.

"A partnership? When did you decide to close up shop and team up with Graham and his ambulance chasing..."

"Actually, it's the other way around. I'm looking for a litigator. Ryan O'Shea retired last month and I need an experienced hand. Jack, what did Charlie mean when he said you released a felon...," the puzzled Galiano began.

"Oh, I'm sure your resourceful enough to take care of your own needs, whether you have a partner or not," a voice as calm as death said from behind McCoy.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"Brooke, I was beginning to think the train had derailed," McCoy said as he waved towards the bartender, discreetly looking escaping her emotionless gaze.

"Mrs. Prescott, Jack tells me congratulations are in order," Galiano said extending her hand."I'm Vanessa Galiano. We met at the bar association gala last year."

Malinowski gave the woman before her an appraising look, not bothering to correct Galiano's deliberate error. Malinowski knew who she was. The woman who stood next to McCoy looking so sophisticated and alluring in her white silk pants suit had been pointed out to Malinowski by Abbie Carmichael at the gala. Carmichael had referred to the defense lawyer 'the man-eater that had made a meal out of Jack during his last divorce'.

"Brooke, do you want your usual? A tequila sunrise?"

Malinowski smiled sweetly at her fiancée, as she shook her head.

"I've been craving a bloody mary for the longest time; order me one of those would you, sweetheart," she replied as she briefly held Galiano's hand."You're so right, Vanessa. Congratulations are in order.Before long, you'll _have to_ call me Mrs. Jack McCoy."

_Oh God,_ McCoy thought, as he paled upon hearing his fiancées remark.

McCoy offered her his seat and tried to position himself as discreetly as possible between the two women. On the surface, he silently defended his actions. It was a kiss, one kiss just like Malinowski had said of her kiss that night at the loft with Mike Logan. Hell, hadn't she just had _breakfast_ with Logan on some ridiculous pretense of wanting to thank the him for basically doing what the detective was_ paid_ to do?

But underneath the false bravado, he knew if she'd seen the kiss…the passion filled kiss he'd shared with his former lover… it might not only set off the biggest battle the couple had had to date, it could set back what little progress they had made trying to reestablish the prior intimacy of their private life.

Galiano responded to Malinowski's cutting remark with a frosty smile.

"Will see, won't we. Have you two set a date?"

Malinowski looked curiously at Galiano and then expectantly at her fiancée, as the bartender sat the tall glass filled with the spicy red liquid in front of her.

"Vanessa's been out of the country for several months,"McCoy replied, trying to silently explain why Galiano wasn't aware of the events of the previous month."She just returned from Japan...?"

"Just last weekend," the other woman responded.

Malinowski nodded as she took a bite of the celery that garnished her glass, before exchanging setting the stalk odwn and picking up her drink.

"I see. I've never been to Japan, but I hear their customs are quite different than ours in the states," she said with interest that alarmed her lover; although he couldn't say why.

"Vanessa is having dinner with a colleague," McCoy interjected."Maybe you should think about seeing what's keeping Charlie?"

"Charlie's a big boy Jack," Galiano said slyly."I'm sure he can find his way back from the reservation desk."

"The Charlie you're dining with, that wouldn't be Charlie _Graham_ would it, "Malinowski asked innocently.

"You know Charlie," the other woman responsed, as her smile widened into a grin."Maybe you and Jack should join us?"

"Charlie tried a few cases against my ex-husband several years ago. However, as fate would have it, I just ran into him on my way into the bar. I'd love to catch up with him and talk about old times, but you know Vanessa," she said suddenly lowering her voice as if to share a secret."I got the impression he doesn't like Jack very much."

As the two women began to chuckle, Galiano leaning in to rest her hand on Malinowski's fore arm, McCoy finally cried uncle.

"We're done here," McCoy interjected abruptly, as he signaled the bartender for the tab."I feel a migraine coming on and..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Malinowski turned ever so slightly, as if she'd lost her footing. One moment the two women were laughing knowingly, the next Galinano was sputtering as she raised her arms, trying to avoid the unavoidable splatter of red that sprayed across the silk.

"In the states it's considered bad form to seduce another woman's fiancee in public. Consider_ that_ a little reminder, in case you're tempted to try it again," Malinowski hissed, as she snatched her briefcase off the floor.

"Send the dry cleaning bill to the DA's office," Malinowski continued as she gave McCoy a telling glare. "I can guarantee, Jack will pay for this."

Torn as to whether to listen to his pride or his heart, by the time McCoy had thrown some money on the bar and dashed to the front of the restaurant, his fiancée was nearly to the subway stairs.

"Who was the one that didn't like to be spied on," he demanded as he reached out to grab her arm."You've a right to be angry but..."

"But what," she said staring at the hand on her arm, until it was removed."But you'd rather sit in _Gino's_ and image ravishing Vanessa Galiano at _The_ _Carlyle,_ than actually ravishing _me_ in _our_ bed?"

Malinowski laughed bitterly at the astonished expression on the DA's face.

"What? You don't think I know what all of greater Manhattan knows, via the courthouse grapevine," she said, covering for Charlie Graham and the wealth of information he had been all too happy to share less when they bumped into each other at the reservation desk.

"I'm not having this conversation with you on the street," he countered."When we get back to the loft, if you want to..."

"If you think I have any intention of sharing a bed or anything else with you tonight, you're out of your fucking mind. You have a crack full of clothes at the office; not to meantion a leather sofa that I'm_ sure_ you've spent many a night on. Maybe not _alone_ but there's a first time for everything."

"We're not done yet," he retorted, ignoring the baiting tone of her remark. "If you think I'm going be punished like a willful child..."

"Fine," she said, before turning towards the steps of the subway enterance."Stay at the loft. You know what Jack; believe it or not, I'm _sure_ I can find another place to sleep tonight."

McCoy bit back several possible responses; any of which were sure to result in a blast that would make what happened to the towers look minor wind damage. Unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing him run after her twice in one night, McCoy turned on his heel and left without a clue as to where his feet would take him.


	29. After the Dust Settles

McCoy turned from the stove with a start, when the door to the loft opened, almost an hour later. Wordlessly they made wary eye contact, before Malinowski went through her routine of setting her briefcase on beside the computer on the desk and discarding her suit jacket and shoes. McCoy eyes softened, realizing she was there to stay and not there not there to pack, as he turned his attention back to the skillet in front of him.

"If you're willing to share a meal with me, it's not too late for me to throw in another egg or two,"he said as she peeked over his shoulder at the contents of the skillet.

"If I didn't enjoy your home cooking so much, I wouldn't have come back," she replied with the faintest hint of a smile, as she reached for the open carton beside the stove."That and I was half to Islip before I remembered I don't have a house out there anymore."

McCoy smiled at the double meaning of the first statement, as well as the image of the second. He took the eggs from her and paused to hold her hand a moment, before adding the indgrients to the pan.

"I was half way to my apartment when I remembered…where I keep my eggs now."

Malinowski gave his free hand a squeeze as their eyes met.

"Nice save Jack, but you don't have to walk around on well…eggshells...with me,"she said with chuckle. "About the kidnapping... about the kidnapping or about anything else."

"I won't tell you she means nothing to me," he said earnestly, as he furiously whipped a fork through the contents of the skillet."But it's over and has been for a long time."

Malinowski nodded thoughtfully, before turning to pull some plates out from one of the cabinets.

"For the record, I wasn't spying on you. I walked in to the bar just a few steps behind Charlie Graham. When I saw you and Vanessa…I'll admit... I wanted to see where that kiss was going to go. Then Charlie came unglued and I wanted to hear more about how you handled that case…the one with the kidnapped girl. It sounds like I'm not the only damsel you put your white hat on, to rescue."

"I hardly did that," he said, more flustered than he wanted to admit."Green and Fontana found the girl. I just…"

"After you went against Arthur Branch and almost got yourself fired…maybe even disbarred."

"Charlie Graham has a big mouth," he said disparagingly, as he divided the eggs and handed her a plate and fork.

"The man is a George Clooney clone. He can get away with it," she said with a grin, as she sat down." But, Charlie aside,I still don't know why you stopped seeing her. She strikes me as your type of woman."

McCoy looked up sharply from his eggs to be sure her comment wasn't meant as the start of another battle of words. The sincerity in her expression immediately put his fears to rest.

"That's funny. Danielle and Abbie both almost had kittens when they found out I was seeing Vanessa. Danielle even had the nerve to tell me Vanessa looked trashy enough to be mistaken for a working girl posing as an attorney."

Malinowski stared at him incredulously for a long moment before she started to giggle.

"I forgot for a second we were talking about Danielle _Melnick_. _She_ wouldn't be one to mince words," she said, thoughtfully moving the eggs around on her plate."She's wrong though, isn't she? As much as I hate to say it; Vanessa's not trashy, is she Jack? She's exciting and fun. She probably got you doing things you never thought you'd do."

"_She_ didn't get me to propose," he countered uncomfortably."Where are you going with this, Brooke?"

Malinowski deliberately filled her mouth and took her time before swallowing the scrambled eggs. She knew she was pushing the issue, but she couldn't help herself. A month before she would have dealt with Vanessa Galiano, or any other woman that turned her sights on McCoy, with cutting humor or she would have blatantly marked her sexual territory by greeting her lover with a kiss that would have left both McCoy and Galiano staggering at its finish. The only good thing that came out of drenching Galiano, was the knowledge that Malinowski had been restrained enough not to have made her fiancée the recipient of the shower of tomato juice.

When she saw McCoy enjoying a kiss with his former lover, his current lover saw the woman she had been, before the kidnapping. But that woman, the woman that challenged McCoy to make love on a deserted beach, didn't seem to exist anymore.

Malinowski's mind told her a month was more than too soon, to expect herself to have healed completely. But her emotions told her with every passing day she was losing ground…getting further away from who she had been before…

"We can't keep skirting around the issue Jack. I can't," she said as she took the fork out of his hand."I know you love me. I know you think you're protecting me…Jack... I'm not going to break if you touch me."

"Maybe not physically, but emotionally, I'm not so sure," he said with candidness, that surprised them both.""The times we've tried …Brooke if we force it and I hurt you in _any_way…I'm not so sure I could live with that. Not after everything else you've been through."

"Then we have a big problem," she said as she stood, still holding his hand,"If we _don't_ force it…if we don't try and succeed one way or another, I know_ I_ can't live with _that_."

McCoy stayed where he was. He watched as she came around to his side of the table and took a place on his lap. As her arm went around his neck, his went around her waist. As their kiss became more passionate, McCoy could feel the buttons of his shirt being opened and soon a warm, trembling hand ran itself over his chest.

As his body began to respond to her touch, he admitted to himself that Malinowski was right. Sooner or later it ,would come down to taking a leap of faith, taking things to their natural conclusion and hoping nature would take its course.

As he ended the kiss, he pressed her to him, only to hear the sound of a disappointed sigh.

"Brooke, it's not what you think," he said reassuringly."I agree. We can't go on like we have. But tonight was supposed to be a celebration and I think..."

"How did you know? I never got a chance to tell you about the promotion."

McCoy pointed to the bright red button that flashed on the machine beside the phone, on the countertop.

"When I came in, Jake was leaving a message for you. He mentioned your getting the EADA spot in the message. I hope you're ready to put in more overtime and to get less thanks for doing it," he said with a knowing grin.

" I Wouldn't have it any other way," she replied firmly."You're right. Tonight _was_ supposed to be a celebration. That is reason enough tonight should be the night..."

McCoy shook his head, as his grin became more rogish.

"That's reason enough for me to plan something special, something I think will please you. But, good things only come to those who wait. Trust me. You won't regret it."


	30. A Day in the Park

The following Saturday morning Malinowski awoke to find herself alone. After calling his name a few times, Malinowski realized McCoy was nowhere to be found. After glancing at the bedside clock, she reluctantly got out of bed and moved towards the kitchen. To her surprise, she found a freshly brewed pot of coffee, a cheese Danish from the bakery she favored around the corner from the loft, and a note waiting for her on the kitchen counter.

After pouring her coffee, she began eating, while she thoughtfully reread the note. She mulled over its instructions for her on, not only where and when to meet her fiancée, but the notes details asto the attire required for the day McCoy spent the balance of the week planning.

"Rubbed soled shoes, shorts, oversized tee shirt? Sounds like he's planning an outfit for the gym instead of…well, maybe not," she said to herself, as she noted that the last item on the list was a strapless bra.

Moving from the counter to the computer desk, she debated giving into her curiosity and checking McCoy's search history on the machine. Even though he had become more versed in the nuances of cruising the information highway since becoming DA, Malinowski knew her fiancée was far from a master on the computer. She was more than certain that McCoy didn't have any idea how to delete the history that had been produced as he searched the machine for hours on end during the remainder of the week, only to close whatever window he was looking at, the moment he heard his lover's footsteps behind him.

Her finger hovering over the mouse, as she remembered McCoy's words and abruptly went to the sign in screen for her own email.

_Trust me, you won't regret it._

Had it been any other man, even the former husband she'd been devoted to for years, Malinowski would have countered with a smug 'trust but verify' and satisfied her need to know. But seeing the pleasure McCoy had gotten from not only planning their weekend tryst, but guarding its details like a spy with a government secret, she couldn't bring herself to ruin his surprise.

"All right, Jack. This time, we'll do it your way," she said, with a sigh before opening her most recent email from Nadia Brezin.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

By the time Jack McCoy had completed the finishing touches on the preparations for his afternoon with Malinowski, she had just exited Loch's Tunnel. He smiled and stood; pleased to see she was dressed in the attire he had requested. He watched as she stood in front of the grey brick structure, scanning the area until he caught her eye.

While she made her way passed the rocky terrain towards the willow trees that were just being to awaken from their long winters sleep, he took one final glance at the blanket a few feet from where he stood, and scanned the items on it to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything for their picnic lunch in Central Park's North Woods.

"Did you have any trouble finding the place," he asked, as he offered her his hand to help her up the steep grade to where he stood.

"Not at all. I just had the cabby drop me at the 110th street entrance and then I followed the signs," she replied as she absentmindedly kissed his cheek, before surveying the woody area. "Rustic Jack. Very rustic."

"I thought a city girl like you could use a change of scenery," he said, keeping his hand in hers, as he led her downwards to the patches of green along a creek that was still and clear.

The water was like glass, reflecting the trees that were beginning to hint at new growth and the bright green patches of grass that surrounded the large grey boulders around the bank.

"Oh don't get me wrong, it's beautiful here, Jack," she was quickly."I had no idea parts of the park were so remote. It's like being in the mountains. The perfect place to listen to the quiet or maybe bring a rod and reel for further up stream."

McCoy smiled at her obvious confusion, as they sat on the blanket.

"I don't need a reel for what I'd like to catch today," he replied, while leaning in to give her the gentlest of kisses.

Malinowski put a hand to the back of his neck and responded in kind. McCoy could feel the slight trembling of her fingers as they ran through his hair. Although his hands were steady, inwardly he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so nervous… so uncertain about the possible outcome of the afternoon.

"So do I get to know what you have in mind for the afternoon," she asked as McCoy reached back to pull the bottle of wine from the bag of ice beside him.

"Since we both cleared the afternoon, I thought we'd start with a leisurely lunch and then maybe a walk along the banks, if you're interested."

McCoy busied himself with removing the contents of the basket across from him, in order to hide his amusement. Malinowski's eyes darted up and down the bank, then back to the lover, as she tried to figure out why McCoy had brought her to this of all locations.

He knew she probably expected a trip to a Vermont cabin or a stay at a bed and breakfast or maybe …once she learned they were to meet in the park… maybe lunch in the park followed by a carriage or gondola ride before checking into a nearby hotel. All fine ideas for an afternoon meant from rekindling romance as well as passion, but all locations that McCoy feared were not only too cliché, but too dangerous given the events of the last month.

During his quest for a place that would feel safe enough for his lover to relax and truly enjoy her first sexual encounter since her rape, McCoy had enlisted the help of his longtime colleague and friend Liz Olivett. Given that Olivett had been seeing Malinowski as a patient since her attack, the doctor was careful to keep her responses to McCoy's queries general. However, when he told her of the unique features the North Woods section of Central Park had to offer, Olivett was so pleased with his choice that she let her professional guard down for the briefest of moments.

_"Don't expect one afternoon to make everything right again," the doctor had warned."But what you have planned… the setting and what it will symbolize for Brooke…there's more than a good chance that it will at least get you both back on the path to reestablishing the intimacy that's been missing since Brooke returned."_

As they finished the items McCoy had picked up from their favorite deli, he poured the last of the wine into Malinowski's glass. He knew there was a good chance she had taken one of her anti-anxiety pills before meeting him so, as a precaution, he had only brought a single bottle of wine.

"You know Jack, it's actually getting a little warm," she said as she removed her windbreaker."With the way the weather's been, an outdoor extrusion was really tempting fate."

McCoy knew she was right. All week he had made a point of checking the weather channel, saying a rare prayer that Manhattan would stay dry and calm through the weekend.

After removing her jacket, Malinowski leaned back against the tree and smiled lazily as McCoy gave her a wicked smile. The sheer tee shirt made it obvious there was one item from the list Malinowski had neglected to wear. McCoy leaned over her and ran a curious hand over her breasts.

"Not that I'm complaining, but you didn't follow directions. I hope you don't regret it later."

"I decided to live dangerously," she replied suggestively as she slowly ran a hand underneath McCoy's bare calf."I think this is the first time I've seen you in shorts, Jack. You look like an overgrown boy scout…and you know what they say about boy scouts, right?"

McCoy chuckled as he lifted her hand to his lips.

"You don't have to be a boy scout to be prepared, love," he whispered as he ran his tongue over the tips of her fingers.

"The prosecution demands an offer of prove," she said as she slipped her hand from his.

One hand continued downward, as she used the other to pull him to her. McCoy let her tongue part his lips and begin its exploration of his mouth, before following suit. He could feel her caresses over the shorts on his concealed shaft. Willing himself to set aside his reservations, he concentrated on the feel of her hands and the warmth that was beginning to ignite him.

A groan of pleasure escaped his lips as he slipped a hand under Malinowski's shirt. Her nipples were already like pebbles. He heard her gasp, as his fingers probed and fondled her.

"Maybe rustic has its upside after all," she whispered as McCoy's lips lovingly moved from her lips, down her neck.

"Remember, good things come to those who wait," he responded as he cradled her in his arms."Indulge me. It wouldn't be much longer."

After several more minutes of leisurely petting, McCoy began packing the remains of their lunch back into the basket.

"Not even a clue," Malinowski said with a mock pout."You know this is incredibly unfair considering I've been very, _very_ good."

"You've always been very,_ very_ good," he said with a wink.

"I meant, I didn't even search out evidence of what you have in mind, Jack. Trust me," she responded with a confident smirk,"if I wanted to, I could have found out just by hitting..."

"Connie showed me how to delete my search history," he shot back without missing a beat."Although, it's a tribute to you that you didn't find that out this morning."

"I'm going to have to have a talk with that girl," Malinowski grumbled, as she let McCoy pull her to her feet."You know I love you, but I must admit I'm starting to think you're a bit of a tease, Mr. McCoy."

McCoy laughed softly as he took her hand and rested it on top of the bugle at his center, while simultaneously slipping his other hand inside the front of her shorts as he leaned into kiss her once more.

Although he could feel the slightest tensing of her body as his fingers slide ever so swiftly over her mound, McCoy was pleasantly surprised to find her warm and invitingly slick.

"Damn you Jack," she whispered, as he just as quickly returned his hand to hers and led her towards the dirt path along the bank.

As they bypassed what looked to be more scenic paths in favor the bumpy, increasingly bolder filled path McCoy favored, Malinowski found it increasingly hard to control both her annoyance. Her pride was fighting an increasingly difficult battle with her libido to resist spinning her lover around and pushing him back onto one of the many large rocks, so that she could at last have her way with him.

She was sure there was a point to this journey, but try as she might to figure it out, McCoy's logic had escaped her completely.

"Gee Jack, if I'd know we were gonna climb rocks, I'd have brought jeans and –"

As McCoy wordlessly helped her over the last of the series of boulders she stopped and stared at the water below them. She had been so preoccupied with McCoy's seeming procrastination, that she hadn't noticed the increasingly loud sound of water flowing over the rocks.

The pair stood just above one of the four manmade waterfalls that had a home in Central Park. The one in the North Woods section of the park was secluded; it's location well off of the main path and surrounded by forestry that made what McCoy had in mind not only intriguing, but surprisingly private.

Malinowski turned to McCoy, who had set their supplies aside and was watching her expectantly.

"When I brought you back to the house. That first night, you mentioned wanting to wash away the memories of what happened to you," he said as he took her hands in his."I don't know if that's possible Brooke. But, I do know it's possible to create new memories. I'm willing to try, if you're sure you're ready."

Instead of replying, Malinowski began lift her arms to remove her shirt, but her lover's suddenly concerned expression made her pause.

"You might want to reconsider. That's why I was so specific about your clothes. It's unlikely, there is always a slim chance someone might show up out of the blue..."

Malinowski could feel a gush of moisture between her legs as her mind flirted with the possibility of discovery. She reached for McCoy's hand and thrust it into her wetness as she did to his mouth what she urgently needed to do to his nether parts.

Several moments passed before Malinowski took a step back and discarded her shirt. She smiled as McCoy's eyes lit up with pleasure.

"_I'm_ not the one that needs to be concerned with the voters seeing him with his pants down," she said with a grin.

"The voters be damned," McCoy replied and responded to her challenge by removing his own tee shirt and dropping it beside the basket.

"God, I've missed you…missed us," she said softly, as she ran her hands lovingly over his chest.

McCoy nodded in agreement, his eyes softening, before he took her in his arms. The tenderness of his kiss was eventually replaced by passion, as his hands began to roam over her bare breasts.

As his lips moved lower, he studied her breasts with his eyes as well as his hands; noting how the only traces of the abuse she had endured were the faded burns from the scalding she had given herself immediately after her assault.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are," he whispered before his mouth covered a nipple.

"No more waiting," she said a few minutes later, as she took his hand and moved towards the water.

It took them several minutes before they found themselves underneath the clear, cool cascade. During their journey downward the pair found themselves alternating laughing and squeaking as their bodies reacted to the feel of the chilly water on their skin. What was left of their clothing clung to them, soaked as they ventured into the falling water.

McCoy guided his companion to the spot behind the falling water and ran his hands over her body.

"Maybe it would have been better to try this in the fall...,"he began.

Malinowski pressed herself against him, desiring not only his body, but the warmth of his body.

"It could be worse, at least the snow melted weeks ago," she said as ran her hands through his dripping hair and then continued down his back."Besides, I have no doubt you'll find a way to keep us both warm."

McCoy laughed softly as he ran his hand down the small of her back and abruptly pulled her to him. Leaning her carefully against the rocks behind them his lips began a slow, but urgent, journey down her torso.

Before descending from the rocks, the pair had opted to leave the remainder of their clothing on. Remembering that inspite of the appearance of their immediate surroundings, they were still in the heart of New York City. The couple decided it would be prudent to keep valuables, like the key to McCoy's bike, close at hand.

McCoy heard Malinowski's deep sigh as his hands lowered her shorts, leaving her clad only in the black lace thong McCoy had requested on his list. After assuring himself that the shorts were secure resting on the edge of the boulder, McCoy turned his attention back to his lover. A hand explored the moist crevasse between his partner's legs, as his lips explored her eager mouth.

Thoughts of the past month seemed to be washing away from the conscious minds of them both. Malinowski could the feel the pounding of both of their hearts as she pressed McCoy's head closer while their tongues ravished each other's mouth, she used her other hand to reach into his shorts and knead McCoy's backside.

Longing to free him of the last of his attire, Malinowski opened her eyes and critically assessed the wall of water in front of them. Satisfied the heavy sheet of water would serve as a shield from any probing telephoto lens that may have been on the interim DA, her hands moved to unfasten and unzip the barrier between them.

McCoy stepped back, allowing the garments to be removed more easily. He watched as this clothing the pile on the boulder and then turned his eyes back to his lover. As she reached down to remove the last of her garments, McCoy shook his head, as he reached for her hand.

His eyes ran over her body, before meeting her inquiring gaze. McCoy savored the vision in front of him, his pleasure evidenced by the increasing stiffness of his shaft. There was something especially erotic about seeing his lover in nothing but the skimpy thong, particularly in the setting they were in.

"This is a picture I want to remember, "he said as he pressed himself against her."More than sexy…mesmerizing…"

"Too bad we didn't think to bring a camera," she murmured as she reached for him."Think about the fun we could have had with that…"

McCoy groaned with pleasure as he felt her hand begin to rub his cock greedily. Closing his eyes his mind flipped through a mental photo album of the night they spent in front of the fireplace in the cottage in Canada…as well as to the afternoon they spent making passionate love on the beach several months earlier…

"Oh God…humm…oh yes…,"he breathed as his lover's lips found his hardness.

McCoy felt a pang of guilt as Malinowski set about pleasuring him. As gratifying as what his lover was doing to him was, his plan had been to focus solely on her needs, her desires, that afternoon…

As if reading his mind, Malinowski paused and smiled up at her lover with a look of lustful bliss. Raising herself back up, she led him backwards pressing herself between him and the boulder behind her. Wordlessly, she reached for him again.

As she guided him between her legs,evidence of her own desire was obvious.

"And you thought it was all about you, didn't you Jack," she said playfully, as she continued to slide his cock against her."Tasting you, smelling you… the feel of you…I never could get enough of you."

The feel of her warm, wet softness was almost more than he could stand. McCoy responded by running a hand over her buttocks, slipping the thong down, as he slid a set of fingers easily inside her. McCoy pressed her against him, feeling her hips fall into a steady rhythm against him, as her buttocks tightened. He could hear her whimper faintly, as her arms went around his neck and her mouth ravaged his.

McCoy took delight in the shutters and moans that came from his lover as her passion peaked and a shower of pleasure enveloped her. As much as his own body's demand for release tugged at him, the gratification and well as simple relief he felt in seeing Malinowski clear such a high emotional hurdle, made the wait more than bearable.

After the spasms of pleasure subsided, McCoy held her tenderly while she showered him with gentle kisses. As they whispered endearments, McCoy gave her a roguish smile as he felt a hand slowly creep towards his hardness.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have a one track mind, counselor?"

"Is that a complaint," she countered playfully.

"I'd call it more of an observation."

"That's why I'm Michael Jackowicz's top gun. Tenacity is what makes me _exceptional_ at what I do."

"Agreed. You _are_ exceptional at what you do," McCoy said suggestively as he leered back at her, "and I don't just mean in the courtroom."

"I want you...I want this," she said with sudden seriousness."…need this every bit as much as you do, my love. Please don't deny me, Jack."

"Never. Never again," he whispered softly, as he let her take him in hand and slip him inside her."I've wanted you for so long…"

McCoy's voice faltered, as they became one. Deliberately setting a slow, methodical pace, McCoy savored the feel of what he had for so long feared he'd never have again. Paying heed to his lovers moans and cries, he began to quicken the pace of his love making.

"Ha… harder. Oh God…harder...I want to feel you," she panted."I want …you harder…"

McCoy obliged, opening his eyes to meet his lover's pleading gaze.

"You're sure… I don't want to …"

"Oh Jack…it's….it's never been just about making love…,"Malinowski breathed, trying to find words when her body demanded she focus on the feel of him."I love you…But, I need you,Jack ...I need to fill me … to wash away…wash them away…"

McCoy nodded in understanding, as he closed his eyes and began to thrust hard and deep into his lover. Finally grasping her meaning; the sex act became a cleansing, as well as erotic act for them both. He kissed his lover with tender passion as he reclaimed her, all the while whispering assurances and endearments. When he came, he came hard and with a vengeance, determined to do what his lover so desperately required.

Their hearts still racing, their bodies warm and damp from their love making, McCoy moved to complete his lover's fantasy as to well as to make a final gesture towards the new beginning their encounter symbolized. Their bodies still entwined, he silently guided his lover forward, not stopping until the pair were engulfed by the water falling above them.


	31. A Change in Plans

"Hot bath or fire,"Malinowski asked through chattering teeth, as she and Jack McCoy entered the loft.

"Lady's choice," McCoy responded as he dropped the basket and blanket on the counter, before reaching for the empty coffee pot.

"Fire by default. I already feel like a prune."

After exchanging her damp clothing for the warmth of her flannel bathrobe, Malinowski grabbed the charcoal robe that lay at the foot of the brass bed and returned to her lover.

Coming up from behind, she wrapped her arms around McCoy and let her hands drift downward to undo and remove his soggy shorts and underwear.

"Let's get you warmed up," she whispered before slipping his tee shirt over his head.

Ignoring the robe she held out, McCoy turned around to face her and pressed her to his goose bumped frame.

"Fine by me," he replied before giving her leisurely kiss.

After their passionate afternoon the pair, after recovering from the physical shock of the chilly waters of Central Park, found themselves recharged emotionally and physically. Throughout their trip home the couple found it difficult, if not at times, impossible to keep their hands off one another.

"Don't start something you won't be able to finish, counselor," she warned before stepping back and thrusting the robe into his hands.

"Yee have little faith," he began as he covered himself."What makes you think I'm not only_ capable _finishing, but-"

McCoy stopped short when Malinowski pointed to the flashing light of the answering machine.

"How much you want to wager one of us has to go to work?"

"I'm the boss, remember? I'm the one that gets to stay home and call _other_ people in on a Saturday," he said as he handed her a mug filled with coffee and reached for the bottle beside the answer phone."What about you? You said you weren't on call this weekend."

Malinowski shook her head, responding to the scotch bottle he held over her mug.

"Not to catch cases, but you never know. One of the ADA's on call might be having a problem with a case or trouble finding a judge," she responded as held the mug to her lips.

"It's probably my daughter cancelling for tomorrow,"McCoy said as added some soctch to his coffee."I warned you Brooke. Becky saying she'd come for bunch, does mean she'll actually show up. The last time she was this upset with me we didn't speak for almost a decade."

Malinowski knew she had been playing a long shot when she telephone Rebecca McCoy earlier that week. She almost felt ashamed playing the guilt card when the young woman politely, but firmly told Malinowski it best for all involved if father and daughter had some 'space' and did not see each other for a while.

"If that's the case, I'll just have to go up to Maine myself and talk some sense into your child," she said as she pressed the button on the machine.

Much to their surprise, the message was from the lead prosecutor in the case against Dmitri Nazac, one of the two men who had held her captive. The Canadian prosecutor had phoned to tell her Nazac had plead out and that she would not be needed to testify, after all.

McCoy watched silently as his lover stared down at the steaming mug. He knew the call had to be a mixed blessing for her. The relief she may have felt knowing she would not have to relive her ordeal on the stand was more than likely overshadowed, by being cheated out of the opportunity to confront her captor.

"Maybe if you call Canada and hear the terms of the deal," he began as he joined her by the fireplace.

Malinowski shook her head as she opened the fireplace curtain and picked up a piece of firewood.

"It's done. It doesn't matter," she said as he took the wood from her hands."The charges were capital charges. I suppose it's not like Nazac will be out of the street anytime soon."

"We can still go up for his allocution."

"No," she said with sharpness she hadn't intended."The idea was for that bastard to have to sit there and take it while I told the whole world what he did...or any family or friends of his that might have shown up to find out what he really is, not for me to have sit there and listen to him tell it….for him to finish his statement with how much he regrets what he did. when the only thing he _really_ regrets is getting caught."

McCoy put a tentative arm around his lover as he sat beside her as they watched the fire begin to blaze.

"All these years, Jack. All these years of watching victims sit through it. Now the shoe's on the other foot, I guess. I don't know how any of them sat through those allocutions…listening to defendants cry their crocodile tears just to get a better deal at sentencing…"

He knew she was right. McCoy thought about the day the divorce attorney Sheila Adkins had allocated for killing the doctor of one of her clients. He could still hear the voice of the victim's distraught husband bellowing at the defendant.

_"You're sorry? You__ killed by wife ove__r a divorce settlement and __**you're sorry**__!?!"_

"I know you well enough to enough to know any deals you made were not made to only benefit the defendant. Sometimes the only way a victim gets any kind of justice is through plea bargain. You know that too, Brooke."

Malinowski leaned against her lover and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. She looked up and seeing his eyes clouded with worry, she reached up to touch his cheek.

"Jack, I'm sorry. What you did today…our wonderful day together…I'm not going to let this ruin it," she said as her lips replaced her hand.

"It was an amazing day and we will have more amazing days. That doesn't mean you can't talk about your feelings…or your fears. Brooke, you haven't said anything about the fact Ivan Janovich is still out there somewhere. Whether you want to admit it or not, I know that has to affect you. on some level."

"On some level," she repeated as she turned to face hiim."My head tells me he'd be a fool to come after me now. Rostov is dead. I'm of no value to him now. His partner has already given him up. Anyone with half a brain would have gotten on the first plane out of the country and never looked back. But logic aside, I look for him every time I leave the loft. Everytime I get a train or go to the market, I wonder if he's watching."

"Understandable," McCoy replied."You haven't been back to see Liz Olivett since you started back to work last week. Maybe you should..."

"I know what you're going to say and I agree. Liz is a marvelous therapist. I appreciate her finding time for me in her schedule more than she'll ever know. But…well…you know I've been communicating with Nadia Brezin. Jack, Nadia suggested I come to Moscow and meet with the group there. Now that I know I won't have to take time off for the trial, I'm thinking maybe I should take her up on her invitation and go. I know if I asked Michael for the same week I was going to take to go to Canada, he'd approve it. What do you think?"

McCoy couldn't help up think of the irony of the situation. As much as he believed Nicholas Brezin deserved to be punished for committing murder, he couldn't help but admire not only Brezin himself, but the decent and kind daughter he had helped raise.

"I think you better resist the urge to bring me back a hat back," he said with a knowing smile, as the phone began to ring."It's one thing to replace the fedora with a homemade cap, but I refuse to walk around Manhattan looking like a refugee from the Cold War."


	32. Moscow via Portland

"I thought if I came up here you might find it harder to lie to my face than you did lying to me over the phone."

Rebecca McCoy could feel her jaw grow slack, as her future stepmother sailed passed her and into the small kitchenette. Rebecca closed the door and watched as Brooke Malinowski set her belongings beside the refrigerator before pulling a mug from the drain board.

Normally the descendant of two of the most formidable prosecutors on the east coast would have had no problem expressing her outrage at the unannounced intrusion into her apartment, at sixty thirty on weekday morning. But since learning Malinowski had been kidnapped because she had been mistaken for Rebecca, the young woman had been overwhelmed with a since of responsibility for Malinowski's fate.

"I didn't lie. I just didn't want to upset you," she said as she shook her head at Malinowski's silent offer to pour a second cup of coffee."I know how you feel about Jack and I..."

"_Who_," Malinowski said with sternness that reminded Rebecca of her mother.

"Listen Brooke, I know you want to help," Rebecca began; suddenly pausing when she noticed Malinowski wore no ring on her left hand."Oh my God. Did …did you and Ja- did you and my mother's ex husband break up?"

Malinowski chuckled at the young woman's stubbornness, stubbornness that left no shadow of a doubt as to her paremtage.

"It's still sitting in some evidence locker in Canada," she explained as she took the mug of coffee and sat down on the sofa at the center of the studio apartment."With any luck, we'll get it back in time for our silver wedding anniversary."

"Oh right. Evidence. I forgot," she said as she tightened the belt of her bathrobe, joining Malinowski on the sofa.

"Besides what do you care," Malinowski pressed. "You sound awfully concerned for a young woman that disowned her own father. What do you care whether he's happy or not?"

"All right Brooke," she said feeling her cheeks grow hot."You've made your point. I care. I just don't care to have my life disrupted again because of what my father does and before you try to tell me how Da- how _he_ should get a Nobel prize for sending this Rostov guy back to Moscow, let me inform you Detective Green not only went there when we went to the safe house, he showed me the crime scene photos. It still doesn't justify the jeopardy he puts the people that are close to him in."

Malinowski nodded.

"Those pictures were pretty awful, weren't they?"

Rebecca looked down ward, much like her father did in times of stress or strong emotion. She still couldn't believe the number of women…not even women…_girls_ that had been taken because of the Rostov brothers.

"Awful doesn't even begin to say it. Brooke, I respect what he did. I _really_ do. But my God, how are any of us supposed to live normal lives when he gets on the bad side of someone like that? How can you not understand? You're the one they took…if it wasn't for you…"

"It would have been you," Malinowski said softly, when the young woman faltered," and believe me Rebecca, I thank God it_ wasn't_ you or Lindsay. I won't say I'm glad I opened that door, but when I think about the alternatives…"

Rebecca continued to look down at the Pergo flooring as she felt as wave of shame wash over her.

"You thank God it wasn't you too, don't you Becky," Malinowski said as she lifted the other woman's chin."That's why you feel so awful, isn't it? I'll let you in on a little secret, Becky: It's okay to be happy you weren't the one they took."

"How can you say that," the younger woman asked incredulously."After everything that happened to you…how can you even look at Dad… much less come all the way up here to talk to me? It's because of us you were…you could have died."

Malinowski pursed her lips together silently noting the young woman's verbal slip, as she squeezed Rebecca's shoulders.

"I'm sorry Becky…that was a very 'Mom' thing for me to do and I do know I'm not your Mom," she said self consciously removing her arm.

Rebecca grimaced, assuming McCoy had at some point, filled Malinowski in how disastrous it was when a member of what Rebecca had referred to when she was a teenager as 'Jack's Flavor of the Month Club' made the fatal mistake of feigning closeness to her in order to gain points with the old man.

When Rebecca finally looked up from the floor she wiped her eyes before embracing Malinowski.

"God Brooke, I'm not fourteen anymore," she said in a voice that contradicted her words."Asking you to marry him is one of the _few_ things I think he's done right. I see how good you are for him."

"He's good for me too, Becky," she said as she scanned the younger woman's face."Things happen in life. Those men that came for you could have just as easily been sent for me by someone I sent to prison who was holding a grudge. You've met my ex husband. You know the lengths he went to to try and keep me safe and look what happened. I got hurt anyway. You just don't know what's going to happen in life…but I _do_ know... I couldn't have gotten through this without your Dad. He's hurting over you Becky. When Jack hurts, I hurt as well."

"You've been around him too long," Rebecca said with a smirk."He's taught you to play dirty."

"I'll have you know I can sink lower than any man, Jack McCoy included, to get what I want young lady,"the older woman retorted, with a grin. "Seriously Becky. you two have spent almost a third of your life not speaking to each other. Jack doesn't have another decade to wait around for you to swallow your pride and decide to be his daughter again. You need to talk to the man and you need to do it soon."

"Are you saying he's sick, Brooke?"

Malinowski shook her head swiftly.

"I'm saying you never know when something is going to happen. Jack may live another forty years or this new job of his could give him a heart attack tomorrow," she said as she glanced at her watch and started to get up."You know he loves you Becky. If you have to change your name and move across the country or across the globe, he'll understand. But there's no reason you have to cut him off entirely. It won't make you safer; it will just make you a whole lot lonelier and him a whole lot more miserable."

"Maybe the three of us can get together on Saturday," she grudgingly began while she watched Malinowski gather her suitcase and purse.

"I have to pass. I'm on my way to Moscow."

"_Moscow_?!? I thought you just went back to work? What about the trial and your job…"

"Your dad can explain when you see him. I should be back in a couple of weeks," she said as she gave Rebecca another hug, before opening the front door. "I have to go. I took the morning train out of Grand Central to see you before you went to work. My plane leaves in a couple hours and you know how they are about early check in these days."

"You're flying from _here_ not out of Kennedy or La Guardia," Rebecca gasped."Brooke, that's going to cost you a fortune. Why would you … why not just call …?"

"I told you, I thought you'd find it harder to lie to me this way," she said with a grin. "Besides, the expression on you face when you opened the door was worth a few extra dollars. Now that you know how much trouble I've gone to after my near death experience, do I have your word you'll see you Dad this weekend?"

Becky rolled her eyes at the older woman's melodramatic tone and nodded.

"If only to tell him he's found his match in the stubbornness department," the young woman shot back with amusement.

"Ah yeah. About that…I won't tell you to lie to your father…but if you mention my visit be sure to remind Jack that I'm still not thinking clearly."

Rebecca gave her a puzzled expressed and Malinowski shifted uncomfortably as she recalled McCoy response when she offered to intervene between father and daughter. His simple four word response left no room for doubt of her fiancées position on the matter.

_"Don't do it, Brooke__"_


	33. The High Price of Dry Cleaning

Vanessa Galiano snatched the framed picture from the center of the DA's desk and thoughtfully studied the women on either side of Jack McCoy. Although she had never met her, Galiano knew who the younger woman was instantly. She had seen the pictures of Rebecca McCoy that rested on the desk and dresser in McCoy's apartment.

Turning her attention to the auburn haired woman who gazed adoringly at McCoy, Galiano shook her head. Yes, Brooke Prescott…or whatever she was calling herself these days…was attractive. But she was far from the kind of woman she imaged could capture Jack McCoy's heart.

_...and what the hell is it they're doing in that photograph_, she wondered as she glanced at the man proudly holding a fish up as if the slimy, wiggly thing were a prized trophy.

_God, fishing with the wife and kid…what's next?…A house in Westchester with a white picket fence and two dogs?_

"Sorry. Minor crisis with one of the Executives,"McCoy said as he closed the door.

"Crisis," Galiano said with mock concern."What happened, Jack? One of your prosecutors' actually take the time to_ read_ the Bill of Rights and refused to… what? Condon an illegal search, maybe?"

McCoy shot her a sharp glance, as he returned the frame to the desk top.

"Just the opposite," he retorted.

He still couldn't believe what he'd walked in on.

_A cop sends a suspects address book to his own phone, tries to pass it off as a righteous search, and then my senior prosecutor not only agrees, but wants to pass it off to a judge as within the plain site rule,_ McCoy pondered, shaking head. _I knew Mike Cutter was aggressive, but I thought he'd at least _heard_ of the eighth amendment…_

"Jack?"

"Listen Vanessa, when Brooke said to send me the bill for your dry cleaning, I think she meant to send to me in the mail," McCoy said as he watched his former flame take a seat across from him."I doubt she expected you to hand deliver it."

"Oh Jack. Not even married yet and she's got you henpecked already," Galiano admonished as she crossed her legs, deliberately letting the black satin skirt ride up her thighs. "If you're afraid the little woman won't like me being here, I can leave right now."

"Stop it Vanessa," McCoy said with a sigh. "Pettiness is not only unattractive, it's beneath you."

Galiano nodded. She reached for her bag and busied herself with looking for the dry cleaning slip, hoping to hide her sudden embarrassment.

"I agree," she said lightly as she handed him the slip of paper. She smiled innocently, when McCoy's eyebrows sprung up, as he read the figure on the bill. "It's silk Jack. It doesn't come cheap."

"Neither do you," he shot back without thinking.

McCoy bit his tongue. He knew better than to start down this path with Galiano. It was a provocative remark that had started the one up's man ship that led to tempers flaring and drinks being thrown, the last time he saw the defense attorney.

"Quality is always worth the price," she shot back smoothly,"and if you're referring to our time at _The Carlyle_, I never heard you complain about the price of the room or _anything else_."

McCoy let out another sigh and rested his chin in his hands. As much as he loved Malinowski, McCoy knew if she wasn't in his life, how easy it would be to let nature take its course with Vanessa Galiano. His lover had nailed it when she described Galiano as someone adventurous and fun, someone who could make McCoy do things he never dreamed of…

"Vanessa, we both know you make more than enough to cover a dry cleaning bill, even one that rivals the national debt. Why are you really here?"

Galiano sighed and reached back into her bag.

"Two reasons. One I'm having problems with one of Executive ADA's. I thought maybe for old time's sake, you would be willing to talk to Mr. Carver about..."

"Ron Carver," McCoy asked, not bothering to hide his relief that the name out of Galiano's mouth wasn't Mike Cutter. "Save your breath Vanessa. If Ron isn't interested in a deal, neither am I; old time's sake or not. What else?"

"All right," she continued, while leaning forward, to hand him engraved invitation as well as give him the briefest glimpse of cleavage, peeking out from her black silk camisole.

"You're inviting me to the Trail Lawyer's Association's annual banquet? As what? As your _date_," he sputtered.

"Of course not," she responded with mock indignation."Look at the bottom…the committee in charge of putting this thing together. I'm the _chair_, Jack and my keynote speaker called this morning. He has a bad case of laryngitis. He cancelled on me and the banquet is tomorrow night. I was hoping you would fill in for him."

McCoy tapped the invitation thoughtfully against the desk, as he studied Galliano's beseeching expression.

"You want the DA to speak to a room full of trial lawyers? How long do you think it would be before I am either assaulted by a storm of flying utensils and glassware or booed off the stage?"

"Come on Jack," she said urgently."Trial lawyers aren't_ all_ in criminal law. Most of the people that show are in civil litigation. I know for a fact Ben Stone will be there with Shambala; that's _one_ guy from your side of the aisle. Then there's your buddy Danielle; you know if she's coming odds are Sam Prescott from the States Attorney's Office will be there..."

"Wonderful,"McCoy responded with a smirk.

"Besides, you're the new DA,"Galiano persisted, ignoring his skeptical showl. "You could talk about the importance of lawyers on both sides of the aisle adhering to the constitutional protections of the rights of the accused. That's the topic you spoke on, at the ABA gala and prosecutors and defense attorney's alike loved it. You can even bring the ball and chain I mean, your fiancée and I promise to play nice all evening. What do you say?"

Galiano held her breath. After being drenched by McCoy's fiancée at Gino's, Charlie Graham had called her the next week to confirm the meeting they had rescheduled to discuss his possible partnership. During the course of their conversation, Galiano had managed to get him to bring her up to speed on the events that had occurred while she was in Japan. In the course of that update, Graham had mentioned that Malinowski's had kidnapped on the day she and McCoy were to wed no less, by men connected with one of McCoy's prosecutions against a Russian mobster.

Horrified and intrigued at the same time, Galiano had encouraged Graham to give her whatever details he knew. In passing he mentioned he had heard through Charlie Webber, who was a good friend of Malinowski's former assistant Jake Cohen, that she was planning a trip out of town.

Galiano saw it as an opportunity to make one last play for the man she had come to regret letting get away.

She could see her former lover was weighing the pros and cons of accepting her inviatation,as she waited. It was her style to be pursued, not to pursue; especially when it came to a man who was otherwise attached. The main reason she had broken things off with McCoy was he inability to commit. She had assumed with two failed marriages, he meant what he said about there being no chance of him making a third trip down the aisle with any woman.

Apparently, things had changed…

"What about asking Beaumont at the ACLU or Crenshaw from the Bill of Rights Foundation?"

"Both out of town that night. Look Jack, forget it," she said as she began to stand. "It's obvious you're not comfortable after the other night."

"I'm not…I didn't say that…I just thought with your crowd...," McCoy shook his head impatiently.

He knew Galiano too well to take her story at face value. But the invitation was clearly genuine and her problem one he could easily fix. If Malinowski were in town he would have turned the offer down flat; fearing another confrontation might end in a more serious red liquid being spilled. But with his fiancée thousands of miles away, so that risk no longer existed…

"What time do you want me there?"


	34. A Favor For A Friend

_What the hell was I thinking?_

Jack McCoy stood in the door way of the grand ballroom of the _Four Seasons Hotel_. As he scanned the crowd for the Chairwoman of the event, McCoy noted several familiar faces. Many of those faces belonged to people he knew would rather eat dirt than listen to him speak for twenty minutes, much less twenty seconds.

After making polite conversation with Ben and Shambala Stone, he made his way to the bar where Danielle Melnick stood waiting for her drink order to be filled.

"Jack, what the hell were you thinking," Melnick responded after her friend had told her his story.

"I was thinking I was helping a friend out," McCoy said defensively, as he picked up the glass the bartender had placed in front of him.

"We both know Vanessa Galiano is more than a friend," Melnick countered."We also know she can't be trusted as far as you can throw her."

"You're being unfair Danielle. Besides, it's not as if I agreed to some secret rendezvous."

"Tell that to Brooke when she gets back in town. Have you heard from her since she arrived in Moscow?"

McCoy nodded.

"She's having a great time. Apparently the women she's met have bonded with her and think of her as their American mascot. They've been showing her around Moscow, taking her to the ballet…I think this trip will be good for her."

"Well I'm glad to hear it," Melnick said, with a slight edge."Maybe you two will be ready to reschedule the wedding when she gets back."

McCoy gave her a curious look and waited for her to continue. When the only response the woman in the strapless emerald Halston gown gave him was a shrug of her shoulders, McCoy took a quick glance around the crowded bar.

"Why isn't Sam with you tonight?"

"Oh he should be along any time now," she said with a weak smile. "Right now my wish, is his command. He's been moving heaven and earth to convince me … let's just say since he tried to prosecute Brooke's case against her captor there's been a little tension."

McCoy gave his friend a warm embrace.

"Well for the record, the last time Brooke said anything about Sam was the day he came by her hospital room. I'll be honest; I was surprised she didn't hear from him at least once after I brought her home."

He could see the shame in her eyes before she focused her attention on her drink.

"How do you do it Jack," she asked at last. "I know you. The bond those two have, will always have, has got to get under your skin. How do you keep yourself from punching Sam out or giving Brooke an ultimatum that you'll live to regret?"

"Danielle, you were the one that told me not to let the history between Brooke and Sam get in the way of a future with her. You can't honestly think that there's any chance of those two reconciling, now? We were just minutes from getting married when Brooke was kidnapped," he said quietly as gave Melnick a reassuring smile. "I've seen you and Sam together. Whatever he feels for Brooke, the man's in love with _you_ now, not Brooke."

"Thank you, Jack. I couldn't have said that better myself," a familiar voice said behind McCoy. "It's been awhile since our paths have crossed; how are things in the DA's office?"

Melnick listened with increasing annoyance, as the two men made polite conversation for several minutes after Prescott had kissed her and causally wrapped an arm around her waist. McCoy could see signs his friend was about to blow; the way she fidgeted with the cocktail napkin and looked expectantly at her lover as the frown on her face grew minute by minute.

"…seems you, Ben Stone, and myself are the only prosecutors in the house, Jack. Like lambs in a house of wolves," Prescott said before tipping his head in the direction of Melnick."No offensive, darlin'. Maybe you'd like to join Danielle and me? When dining with wolves the lambs need to st-"

"Jack," Melnick sharply interjected. "Why don't you tell Sam how Brooke's been since she left the hospital? He won't ask you while I'm within twenty feet of you two, but I know he'd like to know."

"I assume you know she's in Moscow," McCoy asked diplomatically.

As Prescott nodded in comformation, McCoy stole a glance at Melnick and fought the urge to cringe. He couldn't remember a time where he'd seen his friend unsure of her self ;be it professionally or personally. It was a site that not only made him feel uncomfortable but protective, as well.

"Yes. Abbie Carmichael mentioned it when she came back from having lunch with you the other day,"Prescott replied. "Strange twist of fate having the daughter of someone Mal's fiancee convicted of murder, turn around and offer so much support to her."

"I agree, but she seems to be more like herself since she went. Maybe after dinner we can talk about the specifics," McCoy said while he discreetly looked over Prescott's shoulder for a polite reason to bolt from the scene of the storm that was about to begin."Right now I need to find the Chair for this thing. Seems I'm filling in for your keynote speaker..."

"Are you," Prescott said with a look of confusion, as he turned to his companion."Danielle, didn't you tell me Potter Cromwell of Cromwell/Moore was the keynote speaker?"

Melnick nodded, as she finished her drink.

"Well that's interestin', because I saw Cromwell not five minutes ago. He was just outside the ballroom talkin' to Abbie and her young man…well now…I guess that makes four prosecutors, after all…"

Melnick and McCoy exchanged knowing looks. Just as McCoy began to make noises about leaving, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Jack, I've been looking everywhere for you."

McCoy turned around, hands shifting impatiently stuffed in the pockets of the tuxedo trouser. Getting ready to begin a furious tirade about the absurdity of a woman well beyond her high school years tricking him into an evening together, when he paused, missing several beats.

McCoy could hear the usually reserved Sam Prescott's faint, but audible whistle, as well as the sound of Melnick's clutch bag making contact with her lover's arm.

Vanessa Galiano looked more than stunning. The long, permed locks fell loosely over her shoulders. Her dress... a blueberry colored satin gown that had a plunging neckline that came together as a halter top... looked anything but trashy on her well toned frame.

"Goodevening Danielle, Mr. Prescott," the statuesque beauty purred, as she held her hand out towards Prescott.

"Why so formal, darlin'? Please call me Sam," Prescott replied, as he reached for her hand, much to Melnick's chargin.

"Excuse us you two," Melnick said as she snatched Prescott's hand and began moving towards the balcony, Prescott in tow.

"Vanessa, what the hell are you trying to do," McCoy demanded, struggling to sound stern. "Aren't we both a little old for this?"

"You must have already heard," Galiano responded with deliberate ease. "Potter Cromwell called me this afternoon and..."

"Exactly how big a fool do you take me for?"

"Jack, I know how this looks," Galiano replied with pain in her voice."But, it's the truth. You can ask Potter yourself, if you like. However since you here, why don't you stay and have dinner? It's been ages..."

McCoy sighed irritatably as he reached for her arm and looked for a more private place to finish their conversation. As he led her towards the exit, he couldn't help but notice the back of her dress revealed even more than the front of it did. The plunging back framed her golden skin from the top of her neck and flirting with the beginning of her firmly toned backside.

McCoy shook his head to clear his mind of thoughts that had no business being there, but not before Galiano had caught the approving look he had given her. Smiling to herself, she let him lead her down the hallway and away from the crowd; finally pulling her into an empty meeting room and closing the door behind them.

"Vanessa, whether or not the fact I'm getting married again means anything to...,"he began as he turned to face her, only to be silenced by Galiano's mouth crashing down on his.

McCoy wasn't entirely surprised by the sudden kiss. It was obvious his former lover had something to prove to herself... or to him…maybe to the both of them. What surprised him was how easy it was for him to yield to her.

As he found himself pressing Galiano up against the door, returning her kiss with the same reckless fervor he had when they would sneak a kiss in an elevator at the courthouse or begin one of their lunchtime trysts; the question that he kept asking himself was why?

He'd spent years being faithful to his first wife…and not just because the formidable Elizabeth Donnelly would have had his head on a platter otherwise. Sure, an attractive new secretary or ADA still caught his eye back then. But, that was all she'd catch. Even with Diana Hawthorne, it wasn't until he was out of the house that they had began their affair. Even during his second marriage…an event that was on par with the sinking of the Titanic as far as disasters go…infidelity had never seriously crossed the mind of Jack McCoy.

"It's not like you to settle for another woman's leftovers," he breathlessly remarked.

"Is that how you see yourself now Jack? My God, can you honestly tell me you think you'll be happy coming home every night to the same woman? Shopping for wallpaper, watching the Bears game on the sofa instead of the pub, while wife number three knits you a scarf to go with that..."

"Stop it. I told you in my office, this is beneath you," he snapped, unsure who he was more disgusted with. "Maybe you've forgotten who ended things between us."

Galiano reached up and held his chin with surprising tenderness.

"Maybe you've forgotten_ why _I ended things Jack," she said with sincerity that startled him.

Galiano stepped back, her face glowing. McCoy remembered all too well the fiery scene that was to be the last fiery scene they were to have together outside of the courtroom.

As her eyes lowered while she released his chin, McCoy caught her hand and tenderly brought it too his lips, while moving towards a small cluster of chairs near the doorway.

"What I remember is being a wreck before you led me out of post divorce hell," he said quietly as the pair sat across from one another.

"Wow. So that's what I was to you, Jack? Your 'transition woman'," she countered in an amused tone, although the look in her eyes was anything but that.

McCoy shook his head while he sighed, recalling his fiancées words.

_…she's was fun, wasn't she Jack? I'll be she made you do things you never thought you would…_

_"_You know better than that Vanessa," he said taking her hand. "You brought me back to life…you made me come up for air after I dove into the bottle. You challenged me in more ways than one. But, you know I had no business making any kind of commitment to anyone then."

"Agreed. But this is now, not then."

"And now I'm engaged and you… you may have been with Charlie Graham on business that night at _Gino's_, but I've heard about you and Charlie via the rumor mill. You've hardly led a cloistered existence since you broke it off. "

"Nor have you," Galiano responded with more venom than she meant to. "When you jumped from my bed into bed with Samantha Weaver, I thought maybe you were crazy with regret for the way things went with us…either that or you were just plain crazy."

McCoy's eyes widened in disbelief. Although he taken more that a little personal flack for his one night stand with Samantha Weaver once it became public knowledge, in all the times he'd dealt with Galiano since then, she never said a word about Weaver.

"You and I hadn't been together in over a year. I'd hardly call that bed hopping. "

"Unresponsive," Galiano, easing her tone. "We're not discussing your…interlude...with the Weaver woman. We're discussing the fact that you asked another woman to marry you. What happened to 'One shark attack is enough to last a life time? I'll never get married again after the gutting Alyssa Goodwin gave me?'"

McCoy studied her face thoughtfully. Inspite of the brassy, determined facade Galiano put on for most of the world, McCoy knew there was another side to the fiery defense lawyer.

She had a side that loved puppies, that wept openly during a screening of _Schlindler's List, _that enjoyed doting on her lover by making a five course bunch on Sunday morning that would rival anything _Tavern on the Green_ had to offer.

"Things change," he said squeezed her hand. "If I hurt you, it wasn't intentional. You're an amazing woman, Vanessa. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still attracted to you or if I let you walk out of here believing that crap about being a 'transition woman'. Even Brooke can see .."

At the mention of McCoy's fiancée, Galiano slipped her hand from his and lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Brooke. Tell me Jack, what exactly was it about the former Mrs. Prescott that made you do such an about face? Was the challenge just too tempting for you to resist?"

"What are you saying?"

Galiano gave him a knowing look, as she leaned back on the thin metal folding chair.

"Come on Jack. That marriage was as legendary as Sam Prescott's record as a Federal Prosecutor. Talk about unattainable! Why do you think Danielle Melnick is sitting on pins and needles even though she's been seeing Sam Prescott for months? I remember how those two were before Sam disappeared. That marriage kept every divorce lawyer in Long Island up at night, fearing whatever those two had would spread and they'd be out of business. "

"You think I'm marrying Brooke to what? To prove I can break up her marriage," McCoy sputtered. "I don't know what you've been drinking tonight, Vanessa, but it's obviously gone to your head. First of all, there was no marriage to break up when I started seeing Brooke. Second of all, when Sam came back I made it more than clear to Brooke I'd accept whatever decision she made. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a..."

"Come on Jack, it's me. I know better than most _exactly_ what you are. That's why it was as good as it was when we were together. Getting Sam's Prescott's widow into bed had to outweigh just about any other notch on your bedpost. See, I get that part," she said as she leaned in close enough for McCoy feel the warmth of her Merlot laced breath. "I also get that you feel a sense of obligation towards the woman..."

"Obligation," McCoy repeated a stood. "You of all people should know I don't..."

"The woman shot another human being to save your life. On top of that, there's what happened in Canada. You wouldn't be human if you didn't feel some sense of duty...a sense of resposibility towards her."

McCoy couldn't believe his hears. It was one think to rehash an old love affair; to answer previously unasked questions about a relationship that was no more, but Galiano's accusations were much more than McCoy had bargained for. Whatever desire McCoy had to play with the fire Galiano had lit, was extinguished when Galiano went too far; delving into territory McCoy himself had refused to explore himself.

"Let me tell you something Vanessa, if you think the way to manipulate me into sleeping with you is to imply that I use women like napkins, only to discard them after..."

"I manipulated you into coming here tonight," Galiano retorted as she followed him towards the door. "That's the_ only_ thing I manipulated. That kiss we shared_, we shared_, Jack. Just like the one at_ Gino's_. Neither of those kisses came from a man that's one hundred percent committed to any woman. Maybe you better think about that long and hard before you find yourself in divorce court for the third time."


	35. The Way It's Done:West Virginia Style

"… and maybe you better think long and hard about that before you tell Vanessa – 'if the breeze blows out a candle my dress will fall off' – Galiano to be less formal," Danielle Melnick began in an acidic tone as she closed the French doors that led to the balcony.

Sam Prescott bit his tongue to keep from chuckling, as he turned to look at the view if the evening skyline. Ever since his ill fated decision to try to take the lead on Malinowski's kidnapping case, he had felt the weigh of Melnick's silent doubts. After going through the usual conciliatory gestures – flowers, surprising his lover with a romantic weekend for two, admitting his knee jerk reaction was over the top, even for him –he knew Melnick was still wary. Being a master prosecutor had taught him one thing that applied not only professionally, but personally: Never rely on a single strategy to achieve your goal.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Melnick snapped as she joined him by the railing."You find this funny? What did you think you were doing flirting with that bimbo with a law degree? Was that your idea of a joke? Did you think I'd find it amusing to watch ..."

"Listen Danielle," he began as he faced her, poker face securely in place. "If my bein' friendly upsets you so much, maybe you better make me a list of the women you approve of me speakin' to. I mean, you don't want me talkin' to Mal, and now Vanessa…maybe I better stop invitin' Abbie Carmichael to lunch. I wouldn't want you to feel obliged to add her to the list."

Melnick fought to keep her composer. She knew he was baiting her, she just didn't know why. During the months she had been involved with Prescott she had grown to care for him deeply; to even secretly flirt with the idea of a future with him. But no matter how deep her feelings ran, Melnick's pride was too strong for her to suffer in silence, for any man.

"Abbie Carmichael doesn't behave like a tart and I never said I didn't want you to talk to Brooke," Melnick interjected."I _said_ you were too involved in her life. We're not married. You can talk to whoever you choose… or do anything else you choose with whoever you want… just don't think I'm going to stick around and watch."

"So you're sayin' it would be different if we we're married," he asked, with feigned annoyance.

"You'd have _never_ made that comment to Vanessa when you were married. You have too much respect for Brooke, not to mention the fact that if she'd throw a drink at Vanessa for kiss..."

"What?"

Prescott sharp response to Melnick's unfinished sentence, told her she'd made a huge misstep. The only reason she knew about the fateful kiss at _Gino's_ and the liquid comuppance Malinowski had given Galiano, was that Melnick had had a meeting with Charlie Graham the next morning. When Graham retold the story of why he had taken Galiano to the twenty four hour dry cleaners by the court house, Melnick had found she was at once horrified and in awe.

She'd been in awe of the fact Malinowski had unceremoniously staked her claim to Jack McCoy without apology. She'd been horrified that McCoy had not only made a potentially fatal misstep by kissing Vanessa Galiano, but he'd done in a way that begged for that misstep to be exposed.

An misstep that if exposed, could have a ripple effect of undermining not only McCoy's engagement, but Melnick's relationship with Malinowski's former husband.

She knew it was irrational, but looking at the puzzled expression on her lover's face, Melnick couldn't help but wonder how long Prescott would remain with her if his former wife wasn't involved with Jack McCoy.

"Danielle? Is there somethin' you plan to say or is that thought gonna just hang in the air unfinished?"

"Brooke walked in on Vanessa flirting with Jack at _Gino's_ the other night. She decided to cool Vanessa off by throwing a drink at her."

Prescott scratched his head thoughtfully; deliberately avoiding the tell his ex-wife had tipped Melnick off to. Knowing not only how much his ex-wife trusted the womanizing DA, as well as how much she had given up to commit to Jack McCoy, Prescott's immediate reaction was to visualize beating the other man senseless and throwing him under a moving train afterwards.

Aware of Melnick's eyes measuring his reaction, Prescott kept his expression neutral, before responding with cool calmness.

"Did she? Sounds like Mal hasn't forgotten how to take care of herself."

Melnick's eyes narrowed.

"That's _it_? You don't want to kill Jack?"

Prescott shrugged his shoulders.

"Should I?"

"Unless you've suddenly turned into one of the pod people, _yes_," Melnick exclaimed."For God's sake Sam _I_ wanted to kill him when I heard about it! Of all the stupid stunts. Don't get me wrong. I know Jack. He loves Brooke. I have no doubt of that. But to let that…that…"

"Bimbo with a law degree," Prescott offered.

"Exactly. To let her put him in a position where he could jeopardize what he has with Brooke…after everything they've been through…"

Prescott gave her a bashful smile, letting her know he was well aware there was more on her mind than concern for her good friend's love life.

"Danielle, do you really think I'm fool enough to base the longevity of our romance on the actions of someone with the attention span of a fly, like your friend Jack McCoy? Not only did I think you had more faith in me than that, I thought you had more faith in yourself."

Melnick instinctively opened her mouth to launch a defense, but as her uncertain gaze met Prescott's knowing stare, she turned away instead.

"You know, we really should go in," Melnick said at last. "I'm sure they've started serving dinner and..."

"I don't give a hang about dinner and neither do you," Prescott said as he caught her hand."You know the only reason you raced around for tickets this afternoon, was that you heard Jack was gonna show up. I swear, you're more like my ex-wife than you'll ever know."

Melnick whirled around; inadvertantly giving Prescott the reaction he had intended. Anticipating her response, Prescott planted a quick kiss on the shiny red lips that parted, to launch another verbal attack.

"I thought that would get your attention. I just meant, when it comes to protectin' your friends – especially Jack – you're as loyal as Brooke is, when it comes to Jake Cohen. I'll bet you figured you'd come down here and make damn sure Jack didn't make the same mistake he made that night at _Gino's_, didn't you? Only thing is, you didn't plan on endin' up out here with me while Jack does God knows what with that Galliano woman."

Melnick shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

"You make it sound so silly… so paranoid," she said quietly. "But you forget, anyone who's been in the legal profession more than two seconds in the tri-county area, knows how things were between you and Brooke before you left. I'm not usually one who's shy about competing but..."

"Sweetheart, don't you know by now how crazy I am about you," he asked, dropping the ironic tone of his banter and replacing it with quiet sincerity, as he responded to the vulnerability reflected in his lover's eyes. "The only competition going on between you and Mal is in your mind. You're a sharp gal, Danielle. Don't you know why I took the job in Manhattan, instead of starting fresh in Buffalo?"

"Honestly?"

"Is there any other way to go with you," he said with a wink.

Melnick searched the pale green eyes, feeling more and more foolish by the second. She could see the warmth, the genuine concern he had for her. But her own concerns seemed to engulf her thoughts more and more in the past few weeks…concerns that could only be laid to rest if Melnick brought them directly into focus.

"I thought … as much as I knew you wanted to see where things would go with us…I thought part of you wanted to see how long it would be before Jack screwed things up and you had a chance to win your wife back."

Prescott gave a heavy sigh. Noticing the chill that ran through his lover, he slipped his suit coat off and placed around Melnick, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Dear God woman," he finally replied as he pressed his chest against her back."You are truly a conundrum. For a woman that goes on blind faith with clients that are affiliated with such upstanding organizations as the Aryan Brotherhood, you sure are a hard nut to crack."

"That's because I'm a romantic. I know true love when I see it," she said softly.

"Do you now," he asked as he turned her to face him.

Prescott could see where his lover was taking their conversation and a wave of shame washed over him. As much as he'd enjoyed baiting her and watching her tightly controlled responses... not just that night but over the last few weeks…he never dreamed she'd be willing to give up so easily.

Prescott slipped his hand into the vest pocket where his pocket watch rested.

"Before you say something you won't be able to take back and we'll both regret, may I ask you somethin'? Do you love me Danielle or was this just a causal thing for you? A flirtation...an infatuation at most…"

Melnick's eyes widened disbelief.

"I think you have me confused with the bimbo with a law degree," she sputtered."I don't play with people's feelings. If you think I do then..."

"Neither do I darling, neither do I," he countered with the faintest of smiles as he pressed her hand to his. "But I must confess, I have been less than honest with you. I _did _see Mal before she left town. I will admit, that woman_ is_ somethin' special and she had somethin' I wanted…somethin' I could get only from Mal."

Melnick tried to wrench her hand from his as confusion and anger nearly blinded her to the feel of the object pressing against the palm of her hand.

"You know Sam, I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, but I've had enough..."

Prescott grinned as he watched her react; her face first tightening and then relaxing, as her eyes widened and her mouth formed a silent 'Oh'. Melnick opened her hand and stared down at the gold ring with the single round solitaire diamond.

"It belonged to my mother," Prescott explained. "It's not very fancy and I'd only ask that you wear it until we have a chance to get you a proper ring…you should have your own ring. I'd still like you to keep it, for sentimental reasons…that is… if you're ready to forget about all this nonsense and consider bein' my wife."

Melnick's stunned gaze traveled from her hand upward to meet Prescott's expectant gaze.

"This...the ring… _this_ is what Brooke had that you wanted?"

"She tried to give to me when we were doin' the divorce settlement. Said it was a family heirloom and since she wasn't officially family …anyway…I didn't see much point in takin' it then," he said as he took the ring from her hand and began slipping it on her finger. "Didn't expect I'd be needin' it. Not until that night you dressed me down about takin' the case. I knew I loved you, I just didn't know how much I _needed_ you. I love you Danielle Rose Melnick. Now, unless you'd rather go chasin' after Jack right now to make sure he's behavin' himself, I'd like an answer. I'd like to know if you'd do me the honor of becomin' my wife?"

Melnick could feel the mixture of tears and mascara slowly streaming downward from her eyes. Taking the handkerchief Prescott offered, she dabbed at her eyes.

"You've been carrying the ring around with you just waiting until I was good and ticked off? You've done this before, Sam. Is this your idea of how these things are done?"

"It is, when a point needs to be made," he said as he took her in his arms. "I'll always have room in my heart for Mal. If somethin's not right, I'll be there for her Danielle. As a friend, as someone who knows her backwards and forwards, but not as a man. As a man, I've moved on with you. Sweetheart, you know I'm no Jack McCoy…never wanted to be either. I don't dally when it comes to matters of the heart. I've always been a one woman man and you are the woman I want, if you'll have me."

"_If_ I'll have you," she asked as her lips turned upward. "Oh, Sam if that was all I had to consider, you know I'd say 'yes' in a heartbeat."

"_If _that was all you had to consider," he replied with a disappointed frown.

"Marrying a Jewish woman involves much more than whether or not the woman in question _wants_ to get married," Melnick was the feigned seriousness. "Especially to a non-Jew. For example, the reception. Do we go kosher or non-kosher and then there's the ceremony…"

Prescott bit his lip as he gave her a respectful nod.

"Touché , Ms. Melnick," he whispered before reaching for the back of her neck and planting several light, rapid kisses on her lips before pressing her close and letting his lips linger on hers as their last kiss turned passionate.

When they finally came up for air, endearments where exchanged along with more tender kisses and hugs.

"I suppose I deserved that non answer after givin' you such a hard time," he said, his eyes dancing with pleasure. "For the record, I am a practicin' Presbyterian, as you well know. But, if you have your heart set on a ceremony in the synagogue… "

"I have my heart set on you; everything else will work itself out."


End file.
